Salvation
by MyImmortal329
Summary: Daryl Dixon has hunkered down for the apocalypse, and he's all but ready to spend the rest of whatever amount of time's he's got drinking himself into a stupor until the walking dead find him. But his entire world is turned upside down—again—when an injured stranger lands on his doorstep.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead. Nothing at all. Nada. Zilch. Zip.

Salvation

Summary: Daryl Dixon has hunkered down for the apocalypse, and he's all but ready to spend the rest of whatever amount of time's he's got drinking himself into a stupor until the walking dead find him. But his entire world is turned upside down—again—when an injured stranger lands on his doorstep.

Chapter 1

Daryl Dixon shivered as the winds changed. Taking a peek up at the blackening sky, he would have thought all hell was about to break loose, if it hadn't already. He grunted, hammering in the last of the nails into the boards over the shutters. With a last glimpse up at the rolling clouds, he retreated into the little cabin. It wasn't much, but it was the only thing he'd ever owned for himself, only because a grandfather he'd never met up and died and left it to him in his will.

He grabbed his beer off the top of the old black and white television set. It wouldn't work, even if he'd had electricity, so it pretty much served as another dust collector.

He settled down in his chair, a chair very much like the one his old man's ass had been plastered to in the last few years of his life. He smirked as he took a sip. Daryl'd never been one to sit around and drink all day, but the world fell apart, there were no jobs to go to, there was no money to earn, and the dead were getting up and eating the living. So why not just stay in and drink? It sounded like a solid plan.

The shutters groaned, and the old cabin creaked and shuddered as the wind picked up, whistling through cracks in the walls. He muttered under his breath and put his beer down, heading over to shove a book case in front of the problem wall. He made a mental note to fix it later. Piece of shit cabin was falling apart, but it wasn't exactly a great time to head into town to the hardware store. If it wasn't the storm that would kill him, it was the hoard of walking dead outside.

A flash of lightening was immediately followed by the booming thunder that shook the little cabin so hard the silverware rattled in the drawers. His hand squeaked against the glass as he rubbed at the fog on the window, and he one of the older trees outside had fallen, and the cover of his brother's motorcycle had blown off and slapped up against one of the fence posts.

"Fuck," he groaned, pulling his coat on and tugging the door open. He rushed outside, narrowly avoiding getting smacked in the head by a flying tree branch, and he grabbed his motorcycle by the handles and struggled to get it up to the side of the cabin. He grabbed a chain and looped it through the spokes of one tire before sliding the chain around an old pipe sticking out of the ground. Once he retrieved the cover, he pulled it back over the bike and rushed back into the cabin, slamming the door shut behind him.

He shivered and shrugged his coat off, moving over to the kitchen sink to grab a dry towel. As he ran it through his hair and over his face and neck, he heard something outside. At first, he thought it was the wind, but when it grew louder, he could hear it was a scream.

"What the hell?" he mumbled, going back to the door and peeking out the window next to it. All he could see were sheets of rainwater soaking the earth. But when a bolt of lightning zigzagged across the sky, the world lit up long enough for him to see a shadow running in the rain. His head told him to let it go, pretend he didn't see anything. The voice of his brother echoed through his head. _Ain't your business. Leave it be. Don't go there, baby brother._ But before he knew what was happening, the figure was pounding on his door.

"Hello? Please, help me!" It was a woman. _Don't do it, Darylena. She's just a set of tits. It's a cruel world. She can't help herself, maybe she should just stay on the other side of that door._ _Hell, she's probably bit. Dead already. _Daryl swallowed hard, pushing back all the bullshit he'd been fed his whole life, all the every man for himself bullshit his brother had pounded into his brain all throughout school, which was why he'd been the weird loner kid that everybody whispered about in the cafeteria. Fuck, Merle. Merle was in prison or dead now. But he wasn't.

He opened the door, not sure what the hell he was expecting, but he sure as hell didn't expect to see the most beautiful damned thing he'd ever seen in his life. Standing there, shivering and drenched with rain, her short, auburn hair with streaks of grey plastered to her head, blue eyes wet with what was either rain or tears. She was cut up and bruised, and before he even had the chance to ask her if she was bit, she began to fall, and he caught her before she hit the floor.

_What the hell just happened?_

She was light in his arms, even soaking wet, and he gave the door a kick, slamming it hard against the wind. He carried her over to the couch and lay her down. She was shivering and soaked to the bone. Without hesitation, he covered her with a blanket, and he moved to add a couple logs to the fireplace. The wood twisted and snapped as the flames feasted on them, and he warmed his hands there for a moment, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do next. _Check her for bites, dummy_. He was slightly irritated that his train of thought came in the sound of Merle's voice tonight, but he paid it no mind. He moved back to the couch, kneeling down, examining the injuries.

She had a black eye, her nose was bloodied, but it didn't look broken. He lifted the blanket to see the scratches on her arms, the bruises in the shape of fingers. Somebody had jerked her around, that was for damned sure, but who?

He saw no evidence of bites, and no blood spots on her clothing to indicate the bites were hidden beneath clothing. He took a deep breath and covered her again. Not having the slightest clue what to do next, he went to the kitchen and poured some water into a fire-friendly coffee pot. He poured the grinds in and stirred, knowing it would probably taste like shit, but it would be warm, and she would need warm when she woke up. If she woke up.

He moved back to the fire and crouched down, hanging the pot on a wire he'd rigged above the fire. As the water began to boil, he lowered himself to sit on the floor and watched her from across the room. She moaned softly, her hands balling into fists against the blanket. Wherever the hell she'd come from, she sure as hell had no business going back.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Daryl rifled through the boxes upon boxes of things he'd gathered from the nearest stores. He triumphantly pulled out a first aid kit from one of the boxes, opening it to discover antibiotic ointment, bandages, alcohol wipes and other things. He heard her sigh softly and made his way back into the room and peered over the couch.

Her brow was furrowed in her sleep, and her head moved gently from side to side as if she were saying no. Whatever dream she was having, she wasn't enjoying it.

He moved around to kneel by the couch, and his gaze moved over her. The bruise around her eye had become darker, and the scratches seemed to have stopped bleeding. Her wrist was a little swollen, possibly badly sprained or broken. Somebody had definitely roughed her up. He'd seen it before on his own mama. She'd hide the bruises she could, and the others she'd always have some stupid explanation for. He'd had his own bruises and scars, and they needed no explanation. His father was a cruel man who ran his family with an iron fist. He'd become even harder after Daryl and Merle's mama died. There had been no escaping him, not until the bastard OD'd in the back of his car after picking up a prostitute named Margie. He'd died in the throes. Daryl was fourteen when it happened, and he'd spent the better part of the next four years being bounced around eight different foster homes.

He turned his attention to the contents in the first aid kid, opening up one of the alcohol wipe packets. He grimaced as he gently wiped at her cuts, knowing it had to sting like a bitch. But she just moaned in her sleep.

He went back to the kitchen for a clean rag, dampening it in the fresh bucket of water he'd gotten from the well outside. He cleaned each of her cuts before rubbing ointment on each one. Her arms had long scratches, like somebody had been holding into her and she'd jerked away as their nails scratched down her skin. He'd seen it plenty on his mother, a woman who had been so quiet you could forget she was there if her worthless husband wasn't constantly pushing her around and treating her like a damned diseased mutt.

After he finished cleaning her wounds and putting medicine on them to avoid infection, he moved to her face, where there was a small cut bleeding just beneath her hairline. He gently dabbed at it, soaking up the small trickle of blood. He cleaned it and used a swab to put medicine on it. When he was finished, he put the first aid kit away and poured himself a cup of coffee.

The storm was beginning to let up, and he listened to the way the rain washed over the roof, the occasional drip trickling down from a crack in the ceiling. He sighed and moved to grab a bucket to set under the drip and collect the water, and as he did so, he heard her shift on the couch.

"Ed?" she asked. Daryl froze. He watched as she fought to open her eyes, and he moved over to the fire place, glancing over his shoulder as he poured another cup of coffee, placing it on the coffee table for her when she woke.

Her hair wasn't quite as damp now, and as it dried, he noticed how it began to curl just slightly. She had nothing on her to give away her name or who she was, but he figured she was his age judging by the streaks of grey in her auburn hair. She had smooth, pale skin that was freckled just where her shirt dipped in front. On her hand, he saw a pale strip where perhaps a wedding band was worn.

"Ed?"

"Hey," he murmured, finally making his presence known to her. "You alright, lady?" Her eyes fluttered open, and she moaned, bringing one hand gently to her forehead, squeezing the bridge of her nose as she tried to figure out where the hell she was and how the hell she got there. She winced as a bolt of pain shot through her arm. She lowered her hand and examined her wrist. "Think it's broke." The woman turned her head toward him, blinking a few times, as if not remembering she'd run to his door screaming for help, as if she hadn't collapsed in his arms. She sat up a little, her movements quick and sharp. "Hey, it's ok. You're ok." She took a couple of quick breaths, as if she was trying to decide if she should cry out or not, but then a look of realization hit her. Why cry out? Nobody would come. Nobody but the dead.

Daryl grabbed the steaming coffee cup off the table and extended it to her.

"It tastes like shit, but it'll warm you up." She eyed the cup before she reached out with her good hand and grabbed it, eyeing him warily. "Drink it or don't." He moved to put another log on the fire. She jumped at the clatter it made, and he saw her shrink back against the couch.

"The storm," she remembered, her voice hoarse. No sooner had she said the words than a boom of thunder shook the cabin again. She shivered and pulled the blanket up close. She took a tentative sip of coffee, making a face before putting it back down on the coffee table.

"Told ya," he muttered, pouring his own cup back into the pot. "Never thought I'd say this, but I could go for a damned Starbucks right about now." The woman gently rubbed her painful wrist. "Can look and see if I got some kinda sling for it."

"It's not broken," she murmured. "Just sprained." He figured from the tone of her voice that she'd experienced it before, but he didn't want to make any assumptions.

"You a doctor?"

"No," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. She dragged her fingers through her damp hair, and Daryl watched her gaze flicker to the door.

"S'alright. Don't think anybody followed you." He saw her duck her head a little before pulling back the blanket to look at her arm. "Put some stuff on 'em. Don't think they'll get infected. Shouldn't scar either." He saw the tears well in her eyes again, and in that moment, he figured she probably wasn't a stranger to scars. "Somebody hurt you?" She flinched but shook her head.

"Branches scratched me when I was running through the woods. Trying to get away from one of those things..."

_Didn't see no walker. Branches wouldn't put hand-shaped bruises on her arm. Bruises like daddy used to leave on mama. Like he used to leave on me._

"I'll head out after the storm, see if I can find that walker. Don't see too many of 'em this deep in the woods."

"No, it's probably gone. I lost it."

_Sure ya did. Just like them branches sprained your wrist and gave you that black eye and bloody nose. _ They sat in silence for a moment as the wind braced against the house.

"Name's Daryl Dixon," he said after a few minutes.

"I'm Carol. Peletier."

"That French or something?" he asked, with a little smirk. She shrugged.

"Something," she sighed. She relaxed a little on the couch and rubbed her wrist.

"You need somethin'? Got some aspirin. Some painkillers."

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"You ain't fine. You came runnin' here like you was bein' chased."

"I was. By one of those…"

"Walkers?" he finished for her.

"What?"

"S'what I call 'em. They die, they get up, they walk."

"Makes sense," she said with a little shrug.

"Who's Ed?"

"What?" Her gaze snapped up to meet his, and he realized he'd probably pushed too far too fast.

"Just a name you said when you was out."

"Ed's my husband," she said quietly. "We were camping when it happened. We've been out in the woods ever since." She avoided looking into his eyes. She grimaced and held her hand to her nose, and Daryl noticed the blood trickling between her fingers.

"Here." He tossed her a damp cloth. "Tilt your head back." Carol did as he said, resting her head back against the couch. "It hurt?"

"No," she said quietly. "It's fine." She coughed, and Daryl looked over toward the fire. After a few minutes, the nose bleed stopped, and she tossed the bloodied rag into the fire.

"You hungry?"

"Not really," she lied. She was starving, but the last thing she felt like doing was eating.

"You can have my bed tonight. Got another room, but it's full of boxes and shit I've picked up in town. I'll take the couch."

"I'll sleep on the couch. I don't mind," she said quietly. "I don't want to put you out."

"I ain't havin' you sleep on the couch. You ain't in no shape for that." He eyed her. "Where's your husband?"

"We were attacked," she said grimly. "They got him. I just…I ran. That's when I ended up here. It was my fault. I…I was making too much noise."

_Yeah, making too much noise when he was beating the hell out of you. Glad the fucker's dead._

"C'mon. I'll show you where you can get cleaned up," Daryl offered. Carol stood, her legs a bit shaky. She shrugged off the blanket and followed him to the bedroom in the back, where he showed her where the extra blankets were. "Wasn't plannin' on havin' no guests for the apocalypse, but you're welcome to what you can find."

"I need to go back," she said softly.

"Back to your camp?" Carol nodded solemnly. "What for?"

"There are…things I need. Things I doubt you have."

"Oh," he said gruffly, swallowing hard. "We can go make a…run for that stuff." He shifted uncomfortably in her presence.

"I'm not staying. Just for the night," she insisted warily. Daryl eyed her and then the door.

"I got a room you're welcome to. Ain't nobody else bangin' on the door. 'Sides, where the hell else you gonna go?" Carol's eyes darted toward the door. "Really. I ain't gonna turn you out to fend for yourself." She settled down a little and pulled her arms around herself. "Whatever you wanna do. You're welcome to stay here. Heal. When you're feelin' better, then do whatever the hell ya want."

"Ok." Her voice was as soft as a whisper.

"You need me, I'll be on the couch."

"Thank you, uh…"

"Daryl," Daryl reminded her.

"Daryl. Thank you." He gave her a nod before turning and walking out of the room, leaving her alone to her thoughts as the storm kicked up a notch outside and the rain needled the cabin roof in what seemed to be an endless torrent.

Daryl woke sometime in the night after the storm had passed. It was so silent outside that he could hear the owls the coyotes as if they were right on top of the house. He groaned, rubbing his eyes as he heard a whimper from the back of the house.

He strained to hear her, wondering if he should check on her, but he didn't know her, she didn't know him, so what the hell kind of comfort could he offer her? She was an abuse victim. That was for sure. She didn't exactly flinch away from a helping hand, but she'd definitely been slapped around, made to feel like less of a person by somebody. Probably that husband of hers, judging by the freshness of the bruises and the scratches.

He turned on the couch, feeling a rumble in his stomach. He often woke up hungry, but he didn't have the food to waste for a midnight snack, knowing he'd be just as hungry when he woke in the morning.

Still, he got up anyway and moved to the back of the house, figuring he'd check the locks on the back door and check the other windows. When he was satisfied the house was secure, he still felt an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He could hear her cries become less muffled, more choking, and he leaned against the wall. He thought back to the time when he was small and his mother would cry for days over his worthless piece of shit father, and how he would crawl up with her in the bed and snuggle with her and promise her he'd protect her. But in the end, he was just too small, and his mother's illness was too weak. Cancer had been the official cause of death, but Daryl had always blamed his dad for putting his mother thorough hell.

Carol's cries softened to the kind of quiet that you could only hear when the house was as quiet as a tomb, which, tonight, it was. He reached out to touch the door knob, his hand wrapping around it. He would check on her. He'd ask her if she needed anything, and she would tell him she was fine. But he figured it was only the right thing to do. But he found the doorknob wouldn't budge. She'd locked herself in. He couldn't blame her. It was hard enough to trust people before the change. Now she had to share a roof with a complete stranger after the trauma she'd been through. Hell, he wouldn't blame her if she slept with a knife under her pillow from then on out.

He gently rapped at the door, his knuckles barely grazing the solid oak.

She sniffled, and the bed springs creaked as she sat up in the bed.

"What?"

"You ok in there? You in pain?"

"I'm fine." Her answer was short and choked, and he knew it was all he was going to get.

"You need anything?"

"No," she replied. With a sigh, he turned and retreated back to the living room, feeling something pull in his stomach, almost a guilt gnawing at him. He felt for her. He knew what it was like to feel completely powerless. But these were different times. It was a different world. It wasn't his business. She wasn't his business. So why the hell did he care so much?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"You ever shoot a gun before?" Daryl asked, clearing the dishes off the tables. Carol looked up from her cup of coffee and shook her head

"Never," she admitted. She'd been in quite a bit of pain that morning and finally had decided to take some aspirin, and Daryl had fixed them a humble meal of re-hydrated stew. He'd raided a sporting goods store a week ago and stocked up on weapons, ammo and, of course, camping supplies including the dried foods. Just add water.

"Your wrist heals up, I can teach ya. If you're still here, I mean." He caught her gaze, and she looked away. She gave him what he could only figure was a nod yes, but it was weak and uncertain.

"Tell me what direction your camp was in, and I can go get your stuff."

"I'd like to go," she said quietly, her shoulders shrugging slightly. She seemed to shrink before him, as if she were making herself smaller to fit into his world.

"You up to it?"

"I'm not an invalid. Just some scrapes and bruises. I'm fine." He eyed her, waiting for her gaze to meet his again, but it didn't. Instead, she looked down into her coffee cup, and he watched as her fingers tapped nervously at the ceramic mug. She studied the words on it. _World's Greatest Dad._ "You have kids?"

"Nah," Daryl said with a shrug. "Must've picked it up on one of my runs. Sure as hell wasn't for my old man. Never wanted kids."

"Me neither," she said quietly, looking away. "Maybe before."

"Before everything changed," Daryl assumed. She shrugged.

"There's too much evil in the world. Why bring a child into that? And now? Now you risk your life walking out the front door. It's not worth it. It's not." She took another sip of coffee and got up from the table. He watched her take the cup to the sink. She leaned against the counter for a moment before she turned around to face him, threading her fingers through her short, auburn locks before her hands fell to her sides weakly.

"Is there a place I could wash up? I mean…like a creek or something?" He gave her a little nod.

"You ain't goin' alone," he murmured. "You get lost, you're as good as dead. I know a spring, deep enough you can get a good wash in. But it's hidden. Walkers get at ya, and you won't even hear the screams from here." He could almost see the shudder crawl through Carol's body. "You feelin' up to a walk?"

"Fresh air sounds good." She avoided looking at him again, and she pushed past him and into the back of the house.

Daryl finished the dishes, and before too long, Carol was coming back in the kitchen with a pack slung over her shoulder. She wore the same clothes as last night, but he figured she was probably planning on changing after her wash.

He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she was as she placed her pack down on the table and began to rifle through it, her eyes focused on her task. Her auburn hair was brushed down, and her hair was almost long enough to sweep into her eyes. The sunlight glinted on her face, and when her gaze moved up slightly, he saw the way her eyes were so blue, a person could drown in them. As she turned, the sunlight glittered on her hair, and he saw she had more flecks of grey than he'd realized.

He remembered his mother joking that his father was the one that made her go grey early. The only thing was, Daryl had never laughed at that, because it was true, and it certainly wasn't funny. The years of self-discipline to teach herself to be silent as a mouse, even when he wasn't home, never slipping out of character, only for him to fly off the handle about something else, screaming about the heat being up two degrees too high or about the chili soup being too spicy. An abuser was an abuser, and no amount of good behavior on his mother's part had ever slowed or changed the abuse. It just gave his dad more time to think up reasons to punch her in the face.

"I'll wait outside," Carol finally announced, catching him watching her and moving back toward the door.

"Wear that. There's a chill out there." He nodded toward a leather jacket on the back of the door, and she reached for it, her fingers moving over the sleek leather as if it was something precious. "Stay close. You see a walker, you holler. I'll be out in a minute." She nodded and opened the door by the stove, pushing open the screen door, being careful not to let it slam shut. Daryl watched her, watched the way she walked, carrying herself as if she was walking on eggshells. She shrugged the jacket on and folded her arms protectively around herself and stood still, staring into the woods.

He turned and headed into the other room to grab a dusty old leather jacket out of the closet. It had been Merle's. On the back were grey angel wings, something he'd bought himself at a motorcycle shop, jokingly telling his little brother to show him respect, because he was his guardian angel, he just didn't know it. Daryl had always hated that jacket, but he put it on now, feeling comforted by its warmth. Yeah, this was a good jacket.

He grabbed a gun, a knife and his crossbow—his favorite hunting weapon—and headed outside, knife between his teeth as he holstered his gun and slung his crossbow over his shoulder. He handed the knife out to her, and she withdrew, stepping back a little. Realizing how it must have looked, he flipped the knife to hand it to her handle first.

"Take it. Ain't havin' you out here with nothin' to protect yourself. One gets close to you and I ain't there, you aim for the head, alright? Head kills 'em." Carol nodded quickly, reaching out to curl her shaking fingers around the handle, pulling it toward herself. "One gets too close, don't think. Just act."

"I can do that," she murmured, taking a slow breath, steadying herself.

"You think you can find your old camp? Or you want me to show you that spring, first?" Carol shook her head.

"Camp first. I think I can find it. It's was dark and raining, but it was almost a straight shot."

"A'right. Just take it slow. Things look wrong, we can double back. You gotta be ready. Your husband…"

"He might be one of them," she said quietly. "They…they bit him, and he screamed and I…I just ran. I didn't stop to see…" She looked down. "I should have stopped. I should have helped him."

"The second they bit him, he was dead. You get that, right?"

"He's my husband." Her eyes filled with tears, and she looked down, biting her lip. "I should have done _something_."

"You did somethin'. You saved your own life."

"He was screaming. He was…the things he said…" She shook her head. "I should have helped him." Daryl bit back the urge to tell her she was better off without the abusive prick, but he thought better of it. Instead, he nodded his head toward the direction she'd come from.

"You're safe. Ain't nobody chasin' you now. You hold tight to that knife, and you'll be fine." He watched her blink rapidly, turning her head to brush the tears away. She nodded and took a deep breath before taking the lead and showing Daryl the way back to the campsite where she'd last seen her husband being mauled to death by walkers.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The overnight storm had done a lot of damage, downing many tree limbs and even felling a couple of saplings. They were careful, making their way through the woods as a cool breeze wound through the trees, brushing over them from time to time like an anxious cat.

"It's not far," Carol murmured as she ducked under a low branch, and Daryl followed behind her. He watched the way she moved with precision, being careful not to disturb anything in her path. As he watched her walk, he couldn't help but think she'd made the practice of being careful where she walked and what she touched an art form. She was so careful, so alert, as if the sight of her own shadow might startle her. But he knew it wasn't her. When he'd looked into her eyes, he'd seen a woman with the kind of strength she didn't even know she had, the kind of strength that she would have to reach for. But it wasn't impossible. If anybody knew that, he did.

He felt like an asshole for letting his gaze wander to her ass, but the way her hips swayed so naturally, the way her jeans clung to them like a second skin, it was all he could do not to look.

_Nice one, asshole. She's just been attacked by her husband and a walker, and all you can do is look at her ass. Prick._

"Up here." Her abrupt comment startled him, and he moved to walk next to her, taking his crossbow and readying the bolt in case he needed to send it flying at a moment's notice. "That's our tent." Carol bent under another low branch before dragging her foot over the few scraps that were left from the tent. "Storm did a number on it, it looks like."

Daryl noticed a bag hanging in one of the bushes, so he went over and collected it, while Carol rummaged through the items strewn over the ground.

Daryl's heel cracked over something, and he looked down to see the shards of a beer bottle. The torn side of one carton lay next to it. Carol looked over, hearing the crackle of the brown glass against the gravel and grass.

"Ed liked his beer. Never did care much for it myself." She stood, moving over to grab the bag out of Daryl's hands, her fingers brushing over his briefly. Their eyes met, before she withdrew and made her way around the campsite gathering whatever she could find.

Daryl noticed something peeking out from under some leaves, and he bent down, peeling the leaves back with the point of the arrow on his bow. He grimaced at the sight of a pale finger sticking out of the dirt, a gold band firmly around the bottom. Carol heard him choke back a groan at the smell, and she looked over, covering her mouth with her hand.

"This belong to him?"

"You want it?" he asked, tapping at the gold band with the arrow. She shook her head.

"No good to me out here, is it? He can keep it." He watched the way she recoiled from the sight of it, and he tossed the finger into the bushes.

"Ain't a lot of blood. Means…"

"I know what it means," she said flatly. The snap of a branch somewhere nearby put them both on edge. Carol scrambled to stuff a few more things into the bag, and then she was up by his side, watching him as he trained the arrow directly at a bush. He heard her suck in a sharp breath and hold it just as the leaves on the bush shook.

"Ed," she murmured.

"Stay behind me," Daryl ordered, taking a step toward the bush.

"He's my husband," she explained. "If it's…I should do it. It should be me." He looked at her, seeing the way her lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with tears. How the hell could he say no to that? For all he knew, it could end of working out as some kind of fucked up therapy.

"You sure?"

"Yeah." She readied her knife, and Daryl lowered his crossbow.

"You don't have to."

"I know I don't _have_ to," she muttered, her jaw setting firmly as she took a deep breath.

"He comes at you, don't…"

"Don't think. Just act." He nodded, and at that moment, the figure appeared, a looming presence. Carol's eyes widened, and Daryl held his hand out to steady her as she began to take a step back.

"That him?"

"No," she gasped. "I don't…that's not Ed."

"Let me…"

"No!" she yelled out, lunging toward the walker, knife in hand. She plunged it into the side of its neck, as it snapped its jaws at her, broken teeth packed with flesh and blood. Carol gagged at the smell of it, and she drew her knife out before plunging it right into the walker's temple. It went down fast, and she fell with it. And then another walker came out of the bushes.

"Fuck," Daryl muttered. "Hey, we gotta go!" He reached out, helping her up, and another walker ambled into the camp. "Shit. C'mon. This way!" He started for a clear exit, but another walker came into their path.

"God," Carol gasped. "Oh God."

"Keep your knife ready, and you stay behind me!" Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder, knowing there were too many to pick off one by one with arrows. It had to be quick and dirty. Even though he knew the noise would draw more of them, it had to be done.

He took out the first two, and more began to fill in. Carol plunged her knife into the head of another walker and then another, and when Daryl turned to her, her she was wiping blackish red walker much off of her knife

"Don't get it on your cuts. Don't get it near. You gotta…" Another walker attacked, and he shot it right between the eyes.

Carol found the beer cooler Ed had brought along, and she opened it, finding it was half-full of rain water, and she plunged her hands and her knife for good measure as Daryl fired his gun again.

"They're comin' from everywhere," he grunted, hearing the _click-click-click_ as the gun ran out of bullets. "Shit." Carol took down another walker before stumbling toward the bushes. "Stay with me!"

"Wait. I think…" She reached into the bush, crouching down, peering under. "I got it!" She grunted, tugging and pulling an ax out . She gave it one rough tug when it got tangled in some tree roots, and when it was free, she swung it, just in time to catch a walker, clipping off a good chunk of its head.

Daryl quickly made a grab for his arrows, the sickening sound of them sliding and popping out of walker brains filling the air. Carol cringed at the sight and turned away just in time for another walker to come out of nowhere, knocking her to the ground.

"No!" she cried out. Daryl turned to see a walker looming over her. Its arm was covered in blood, and it was then that he saw it was missing a couple of fingers. _Ed_. "Ed!"

"Carol!" Daryl shouted, rushing over with his crossbow.

"No! I can do this!" she cried out as Ed in walker form snarled and gnashed its teeth. Daryl pushed Ed back before giving him a swift kick in the gut.

"Be ready!" Daryl hollered. "Do it now!" Carol gripped the ax firmly in her hand, taking a step back as Daryl stuck close to her side. It was then that she stumbled, and Ed advanced on her, his hulking form stumbling into her space, shadowing her. Daryl watched, as if the world slowed almost to a complete stop, and Carol lost her footing, going down with the ax in her arms as Ed's corpse fell on her. Her screams echoed through his head like rapid fire on a battlefield, and then he caught up with himself, watching as she struggled, pushing the ax away from herself, fending Ed off with all of the upper body strength she could muster. Her injured wrist twisted, and she screamed out before gritting her teeth and pushing past the pain, fighting like hell to keep him off of her, fighting like hell to stay alive.

Daryl grabbed at the back of Ed's shirt, but Ed was too heavy to move and moving around too much.

"My knife!" Carol grunted out, unable to make a move for it. Her hands were braced against the ax, and that was the only thing keeping Ed off of her. Daryl saw the sun glint off the blade that was tucked into her belt, ,and he made a run for it, reaching between her and Ed, slipping the knife free before he brought his arm up and thrust the steel into Ed's head, the sickening sound of crunch and suction as he pulled it back out covered in blood. Ed slumped over Carol, and she stopped struggling, frozen now as she fought her breath.

Daryl pulled the body off of her, seeing the blood all over her neck and the front of her shirt from Ed's wound.

"God," he muttered. "C'mon. Let's get you up." He held his hand out to her, but she rolled over in the dirt, bringing herself to her knees before she lurched forward and puked in the grass, coughing and sobbing and digging her fingers into the earth as she felt the cool breeze kiss her skin, as if comforting her, reassuring her that everything would be alright.

Daryl knelt down in the dirt next to Carol, reaching behind himself to grab a red bandana out of his back pocket. He handed it to her, and her eyes met his briefly before she wiped her mouth and moved away from the pile of sick. She held her injured wrist in her sore hand, and Daryl winced as he saw Ed's blood dripping down her neck, further soaking her shirt.

He watched her use the bandana to mop the blood off of her skin, and he turned away to give her a modicum of privacy as she peeled off the jacket and her soaked shirt. He could hear the snap of elastic, and he realized she was probably taking her bra off. He knew it was probably soaked with blood too, but damn it, all he could think about was what she might look like without it, but no way in hell was he going to look. She didn't deserve to be ogled at when her husband's reanimated corpse had just been trying to kill her.

"You can look now," she offered, jarring him from his thoughts. He turned to see her finishing the buttons on an oversized flannel shirt, obviously Ed's. "It's the only thing that's dry." He gave her a little nod as he watched her choke down whatever emotions she was feeling in that moment. Her neck was stained brown from the blood that had already dried there, and he saw how pale her face had become. She took a shaky step toward him, and he bent down to gather up their weapons. Carol grabbed the ax, holding it firmly in her good hand.

"We might need this," she offered. Daryl nodded, his gaze bearing into hers as she wiped her nose with the back of her hand, blinking away more hot tears that refused to back down.

"C'mon. Let's go get you cleaned up."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

_Author's Note: This chapter swings into a different gear. Carol's POV. It depicts memories of violence and spousal abuse, as well as some controversial thoughts on the part of an abuse victim. _

Carol stood naked in the waist deep water, gently brushing her hands over her own shoulders and collarbones, up her neck with the bar of soap wiping away the last traces of Ed that remained on her skin. All she had left to remind her of him were the scratches down her arms, the bruises on her body, and the one thing left that she hadn't let herself think about yet.

She was angry with herself. Angry she'd not been able to put Ed down. He was her husband. It was her job. He was already dead and gone, and even then, he hadn't given her the satisfaction of putting some sort of finality to their marriage. In the end, Daryl had been the one that had to put Ed down. It should have been her, and part of her would never forgive herself for stumbling and nearly losing control of everything. In the end, he'd almost killed her, and she couldn't even stop him then.

She glanced over her shoulder, hearing the sound of Daryl cleaning his crossbow nearby. He was somewhere close, on the other side of a rock wall, in earshot in case she needed him, but her experiences with men had only showed her that they weren't trustworthy, and when he'd given her his word that he'd be close and he would give her privacy, she'd wanted to believe him, but part of her didn't know how to trust wholeheartedly just yet.

She shivered. The morning had warmed considerably, but the water was still cold, and she flexed her toes, letting them squeeze and sink into the bottom of the spring where nothing but rocks and twigs and mud rested. She sighed, cupping handfuls of water over her head, letting the cold water trickle down her aching, bruised body.

Rivulets of water spread down her arms, tracing the path of the scratches Ed had left on her that night at the camp, the night all hell broke loose in the protective camp they'd set up. She'd gotten up to pee, and she'd tripped over one of the strings that held the line of tin cans. Ed had woken from a deep, drunken sleep when the first walker came through. He'd put it down fast and then turned on his wife, kicking her hard in the shin. Her legs had folded under her, and she'd tried to get up, but he'd kicked her hard in the side, causing her to scream out. Then he'd grabbed her, pushing her into their tent, hissing under his breath as flecks of spittle sprayed through his teeth. She'd tried to pull away from her, but he'd dug in, his nail short but blunt as he squeezed her arms, trying to keep her inside. Her flesh had torn, and she'd cried out, and that had angered him more. That was when he'd pushed her face down onto the tent floor, slamming her face against the ground, bloodying her nose.

She winced at the memory, running her damp, cool fingers over the bridge of her nose. It was still sore, but it felt a lot better than it had last night when she'd woken on a stranger's couch, the only comfort being four walls and a roof around her.

She dipped her hands below the water, guiding the soap between her legs, gently washing and shivering as the cold seemed to seep into her flesh and freeze her from the outside in.

She guided her hands over her hips, lathering up under the water, feeling her muscles jump and ache as she soothed them with the lavender soap. She washed her arms next, the soap stinging the scratches, but she took that as a good thing. She could feel it, and that meant they were healing. Ed could have killed her. He'd beaten her bad before, dislocated her shoulder on numerous occasions. But it was different that time. There had been a lull in his abuse. Things were good at work, and he'd taken her camping to celebrate. Then all hell had broken loose, and they'd seen the devastation on the way back from their trip. Ed had promptly taken her back into the woods to wait it out, which she knew was ridiculous, because at the rate this thing had spread, there would be no waiting it out. There would be no going back to normal life, to work, to home at the end of the day with a hot meal. But she hadn't dared to tell him that. Instead, she'd been docile, quiet, trying her best not to send him flying into a rage, but sometimes, late at night, the sound of screaming in the distance would get to him, and she would tense up, and he'd get angry and use his strength to push her around, to make her feel bad for being terrified, though he was just as terrified himself and would never admit it.

She moved her hands up and over her breasts, startling momentarily as the cold water cascaded down over her nipples, pinking them up slightly, hardening them. She gently brushed her fingers over a couple of soft, pale scars there, just around the areolas. She winced at the memory of Ed putting his cigarettes out on her as punishment for not having his supper ready on time.

Tears stung her eyes as she asked herself why she stayed with him all those years. Why didn't she just walk away? Why didn't she fight harder? There were no answers. She hadn't walked away. She hadn't fought harder. She'd stayed, because there hadn't been anybody else. Ed had been her family, because she had no family, and as horrible as he was, it wasn't always horrible, and she'd come to accept that it was just the way life was. It was lonely. It was brutal. It was painful.

She bit back a whimper when her hands ghosted down her stomach, minding the bruise that had spread down her ribcage from the impact of Ed's booted foot. Her stomach jumped as she ran the bar of soap over herself gently, her lip trembling as she remember lying on the floor of the tent, his hand bracing against her neck as she struggled to breathe. She remembered him letting go of her long enough for her to turn over. She remembered him pulling his foot back to kick her again as blood spurted from her nose. She'd held her hands up. She'd plead with him. She'd told him her secret, and he'd stumbled back, his jaw slack, his features softening, and then the walker came, dragging Ed out of the tent as his limbs flailed, and he screamed for her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as the tears trickled down her cheeks. _I'm so sorry._ She gently washed down her stomach, minding the tender area where she was just beginning to show. _I'm sorry I didn't want you. I'm sorry I wasn't going to keep you._ She sniffled and wiped at her eyes. _I just didn't want him to have you. I wasn't strong enough. I couldn't have protected you._

The shuffling of leaves caught her off guard, pulling her out of her thoughts. She wiped at her eyes and looked around, hearing Daryl's boots scraping over gravel someplace nearby.

"We gotta go!" he hollered from behind the wall of rock. "They're comin'!" Carol waded out of the water, quickly pulling on a fresh change of underclothes. She slipped her aching legs into a fresh pair of khakis and slid on a white tank top and a sheer blue button up blouse over that. She pulled her boots and Daryl's jacket on and gathered her things before grabbing her knife and rushing out to meet Daryl.

He was already in the midst of putting down a group of walkers. Three lay still on the ground, and Carol tossed her things away and lunged at one walker as it grabbed Daryl's coat, pulling him back. The knife slid into the walker's skull like butter, and it made her stomach lurch. She bit back the urge to gag and let the walker fall at her feet. Daryl turned quickly, nodding his thanks to her before he put a bolt through a female walker's eye.

Carol ran her fingers through her soaking hair and took out another walker before she picked up her things and followed Daryl breathlessly through the trees.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_Author's Note: This chapter is dark. It includes thought about a controversial subject, abortion, which could possibly be a trigger warning. While, obviously, the character did not go through with it, there was deep consideration given the state of her life and marriage at the time of discovering she was pregnant._

After they arrived back at the cabin, Daryl pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and showed Carol how to clean her knife. It took a while, but the dried walker muck began to give, and after a little while, her blade shined like new. He'd taken the opportunity to go outside and try and draw some water from the well to boil and start cleaning a rabbit for dinner, while Carol retired to Daryl's room. He'd assured her on their way back that he'd get the other room cleared out for her if she decided to stay, which she'd told him she hadn't decided on yet.

But she had. She had no choice. It was stay here with a roof over her head, weapons, some food, or go out there alone where death was an almost certainty. She had more than just herself to think about now.

She shut the door behind herself and leaned against it for a moment, her hand reaching behind her to click the lock into place. Her hand smoothed down the front of her shirt, pressing against the slight swell of her belly.

She moved to the bed and rifled through her pack, taking out items she'd collected and the old campsite that afternoon. When she retrieved the small bottle of prenatal vitamins, she sat down on the edge of her bed and retrieved a pill, swallowing it down and chasing it with a swig from her water bottle. She sighed and wiped her mouth, turning the vitamin bottle over and over in her hand. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since the turn, but judging by her best guess and by how long she'd known before the turn, she guessed she was a couple of months along. She couldn't hide this forever, but she still hadn't fully come to terms with herself. She wasn't ready to share it with anyone else, least of all a total stranger.

She'd found out early. She'd gone to the doctor for what she'd thought was the flu, having never had a thought in her mind that she'd be pregnant. She'd been secretly on birth control for the past couple of years, doing her best not to bring a child into a marriage that was so volatile and cruel. She'd had nowhere to go. No parents. No family to turn to. It was just Ed. And then the doctor lowered the boom on her, telling her she was pregnant.

When she'd begun to sob uncontrollably and hyperventilate, the doctor hadn't flinched. Instead, a deep frown had creased his face, and he'd given her a pamphlet on options. Abortion. Adoption. Anything other than keeping the child herself, because even though she'd never revealed Ed's abuse, well, he was a doctor, and she wasn't the first abuse victim he'd encountered in his career.

_"How could I let this happen?" she'd asked, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief as she clutched the pamphlets in her other hand. "I've been careful, taking the pill every morning and…"_

_"These things happen, Mrs. Peletier," the doctor had explained softly, sitting on his stool in front of her. _

_"I can't have this baby," she'd sobbed. "I can't. It's…it's not fair. I'm not…" She'd hung her head and let the pamphlets flutter to the floor, covering her face in her hands. Ashamed. _

_"We can discuss your options."_

_"I don't have any options," she sniffled. "I can't have this baby." She shook her head. "You have to help me."_

_"It's not that simple, Mrs. Peletier. We have strict laws…"_

_"I don't care what the law is," Carol sobbed. "There are worse things in life than not being born." The doctor had balked at that, but Carol shook her head. "I can't give this baby a good life. A happy one. Please. Please, you have to understand."_

Carol choked back a sob at the memory, pulling her hand over her mouth. Growing up, she'd sworn she'd never get rid of a baby that didn't ask to be created, but she'd been so careful. She'd taken all the precautions aside from using a diaphragm, which she'd tried once, only for him to find out and beat her bloody for it.

Her resources had been limited, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized he'd kept her from having much money of her own, many friends of her own, because he'd needed her to be solely dependent on him, another reason he'd tried so hard to get her pregnant. What had surprised her was that he'd never beaten her those times her period came around, announcing that she was, once again, not carrying his child.

She felt sick to think back on it. He'd given her no other choice but to plan to end her pregnancy, because bringing a child into that marriage was the cruelest thing she could imagine. She'd fantasized about getting up and running in the night and never looking back, but it wasn't realistic. Sure, she could run off and start over, but she was still his wife. She was still connected to him. And with a baby?

She'd cried for hours, curled up on their bed, her mind squarely focused on the idea of not being able to see that innocent life, hold it in her arms, all because she was too fucking weak to leave Ed. She'd hated herself. She'd lain awake at night for days after finding out about the pregnancy, praying to God for the strength to leave him. But every prayer went unanswered, and she'd lay there, frown in fear, seeing no other option but discretely taking care of it so he'd never know, so he'd never have the chance to hurt this child.

And then Ed had forced her to go camping with him, spewing some vile about how all they needed was to relax a little. If they relaxed and took some time away, they could stop thinking about getting pregnant, and it would happen. She'd hated him even more for that, for thinking she would ever want to give him a child.

Without even thinking, she had packed the prenatal vitamins the doctor had given her while she took some time to think it over. She'd known she couldn't have this baby, but still, she'd taken the vitamins with her, thinking maybe having them along might summon up her courage to leave him in the middle of the woods and never look back, give her something to strive for, some sort of hope that she could be stronger, be better.

But she hadn't. She had nowhere to turn. Ed had been her life, and when the abuse had started, she'd promised herself that she could take it, that even as weak as she was, she could be strong enough to take it. But she would never, _ever_ let him hurt a child.

She'd taken the vitamins. In the middle of the night, she'd feel a tugging at her heart, feel a flutter in her stomach that she knew was nerves, but her heart plead with her to reconsider. And she'd take them, because her baby was still alive, even if she couldn't keep it. As soon as they got home, she was going to convince her doctor to let her go through with it, and if she couldn't convince him, she'd go somewhere that would do it, because no way in Hell was she giving Ed the chance to make someone else a victim.

When the turn had happened, she'd prayed for death. She'd prayed that they'd come in the middle of the night and kill them both and make it quick. But Ed had fought them off, built up a perimeter. It was only the night that he'd beat the hell out of her that that last shred of self-preservation had kicked in, and she'd told him about the baby, only for him to be killed moments later, freeing her to escape. Her life had changed forever that night. Her heart had made a choice.

"Carol?" A knock came to the door, and she startled, looking over toward the locked door.

"Yeah?"

"Supper's ready. You hungry?" She wasn't hungry, but she'd eat. She owed it to this baby, this baby she'd almost killed, because she was too weak to leave Ed Peletier.

"I'll be out in a minute," she called. She waited until his footsteps retreated, and she got up, moving to the dresser by the bed, looking in the mirror, lifting her shirt to expose her bruises. She gently brushed her fingers over the swell and blinked back the tears. "I'll do whatever it takes to make it right. I'll keep you safe. I swear to God."

Daryl watched the way Carol poked around at the food on her plate, taking a bite here and there, but pretty much leaving most of the food where it lay. She drank water more than anything else, and every once in a while, her gaze would fly up to his, and she'd look away, flinching as if she'd been burned.

"You ok?" he asked after a few quiet minutes.

"I'm fine."

"Need somethin' for the pain?"

"No. No more. I'm fine. The pain's not that bad." She rubbed at her wrist. "A little ache never hurt anybody." She gave a little shrug and took a bite of food.

"Taste alright?" he asked. She gave him a look, and he smirked. "Yeah. I know. Tastes like shit, but it's food."

"It's fine," she assured him. "Best meal I've had in a while." She wasn't lying. Ed had caught a couple of rabbits in camp, but he'd always blackened them, taking away every bit of juice and flavor. Daryl's rabbits weren't dry, anyway.

She thought back to their conversation that morning.

_"You have kids?"_

_"Nah. Never wanted kids."_

_"Me neither. Maybe before."_

_"Before everything changed."_

_"There's too much evil in the world. Why bring a child into that? And now? Now you risk your life walking out the front door. It's not worth it. It's not."_

He'd assumed she meant before the world went to Hell, but really, what she'd meant was before Ed; before her life had spun so far out of her grasp that she couldn't recognize herself in the mirror anymore.

But she was honest. It was wrong to bring a child into _this_ world. But it was coming, and there was no changing it, unless nature had other plans. It was a cruel world. Cruel before with Ed, cruel now. Ed was no longer there, but the walkers were. The sickness was. It was only a matter of time before it got her, before it got her child.

She put her hand to her stomach and flinched.

"You alright?" Daryl asked.

"I'm fine. I'm not…I'm finished here." Daryl nodded, keeping his eyes on her as she stood up from the table. "I'm going to sleep." She was out of the room before he could even tell her good night.

It wasn't long before he heard the crying again, and he put his fork down, his appetite run dry.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A beat up old pickup truck was their ride into town for supplies. Daryl had found it at an old garage in town right after the turn, and he'd managed to get it back to the cabin before other looters could grab it. It sputtered and bumped down the road, and Daryl squeezed the steering wheel as a thick silence filled the cab.

"There's a little grocery store up on Kelker. Last I checked, it was still pretty well stocked. We grab canned goods. We're gonna have to stock up." Carol didn't reply. "You listenin'?"

"Yeah," she said with a little nod, turning her knife over and over in her hands.

"Somethin' on your mind?"

"No," she said with a shrug.

"You sick or somethin'?"

"What?" Carol asked, turning her head sharply to look at him.

"I heard you. You got sick this mornin'." He saw Carol flinch, and he realized he probably shouldn't be asking a traumatized woman what was wrong with her.

"I'm fine. Rabbit just didn't agree with me last night," she lied. Daryl eyed her for a moment.

_Nothin' wrong with that rabbit_. _I ain't sick_.

Daryl cleared his throat and decided against saying anything.

"You ever been on a run before?"

"A couple times. With Ed. But he pretty much just wanted to get out for beer." She leaned her forehead against the cool glass window on the passenger's side. Daryl leaned back a little in his seat.

"We check for walkers first. Tap on the glass, get 'em to the front of the store so we can take 'em out. Then we get in and out before too many of 'em gather 'round the truck." Carol said nothing. She just looked out over the fields that flew by in flashes of greens and yellows and browns. Daryl chewed his lip, stealing glances at her from across the cab. He couldn't get over how beautiful she was. He hated that she was still bruised and scratched all over. The idea that her own husband had done that to her was repulsive. He imagined she must have once been the kind of person that smiled and laughed and just brightened the room when she walked in. He imagined that if the world were different, she might have the chance to be that kind of person again.

"Did you say highway 39?"

"Yeah?"

"Here!" Her finger tapped the glass , and Daryl hit the brakes and took a sharp turn, and the wheels spat gravel into the air. Carol flinched, and Daryl shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"Sorry," he muttered, hands clenching around the steering wheel.

"It's ok," she said quietly. "Everything ok?" He turned his head, a bit surprised by her question, but he simply nodded. He drove on in silence a little while longer, a question lingering in the back of his mind.

"Farmer's almanac predicts a bad winter this year," he said after a long pause.

"You read the almanac?" A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Ain't got much else to do these days, do I?" he asked with a shrug. She chuckled softly. "Might need to think about findin' another place closer to town. Figure it ain't a good idea to be stuck in the middle of the woods, away from town. We run out of supplies or somethin', we'll have a hell of a time gettin' to town. I know you ain't decided to stay or not, but…"

"I wanted to talk to you about that," she said softly. "I thought, if you don't mind, I might stay." She saw his face brighten, and she swallowed hard. "Just until the winter thaws, I mean. I don't want to be a burden."

"Ain't no burden," he scoffed. "In fact, I'd rather have somebody around then sit around the cabin listenin' to the wind rattlin' the windows." He turned to look at her, and she looked away quickly, picking at a snag on her jeans. He saw her blink quickly, and he looked way, sensing she didn't want him to see her tears. She was silent for a few minutes more.

"Can you teach me to hunt?"

"What?"

"I need to learn. To hunt. To shoot. I need to know how to survive."

_So you can survive by yourself? Why the hell don't you just stay? If you can trust me enough to stay the winter, why not stay forever_? _Shit, Dixon, the woman don't trust men. Look what happened to her. She wants to leave, you can't make her stay. Can't do that to her. You'd be just as bad as the bastard that hurt her._

He kept his thoughts to himself, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Will you, Daryl?"

"Alright," he said with a shrug. "If that's what you want." She gave him a little nod before turning her attention back on the road. They drove the rest of the way in complete silence.

There were only a handful of walkers in the store, and once they cleared them out and secured the exit, Daryl took off for the canned food aisle, while Carol went for other necessities, such as toilet paper and toothpaste. She stocked up on medicines and bandages, and she quickly tucked two large bottles of prenatal vitamins in her bag just as Daryl came around the corner.

"What'd ya find?" he asked.

"A lot," she said with a little shrug. "Lots of first aid supplies."

"Good. Let's take this load to the truck and come back for more." Carol nodded, zipping her pack up tightly. She followed Daryl out to the front of the store where he'd backed the truck up to the entrance. They loaded their finds before heading back for another round. Once the bed of the truck was fairly well stocked, they headed out to head home.

Daryl hopped into the cab, turning the key and stepping on the gas to give it a little extra something. The poor truck was on its last legs, and he knew he was going to have to find something else before the winter came, or else they'd be stranded in the middle of nowhere and left as walker food.

Carol was just reaching for the door handle when the snarl of a walker caught her off guard. Gasping, she spun around, knife in hand, and she sent her arm flying. She missed the walker altogether, losing grasp on the knife and hearing it clatter onto the blacktop. She cried out as she was pressed up against the truck, the walker's teeth snapping at her, lunging toward her neck. She could hear the sound of the truck shifting as Daryl hopped out, coming around, and she pushed forward, stumbling with the walker, falling to the ground. She cried out in pain as she felt a sharp pain in her side, and when she felt the cool trickle of blood seeping down her side, her head swam with the dizzy truth.

The walker slumped next to her, an arrow through its head, and Daryl knelt down on the ground next o her, sliding the bloody knife away from her

"What happened?" he asked, gently putting his hand against the fabric of her blouse as the blood soaked through. "You bit?"

"No," she gasped, panting as she moved her hand and raised her shirt just enough to expose the cut on her side. "Fell on my knife." The tears reflecting in her eyes and the way her hands shook as she gripped his arms told the story of a woman far more terrified than she had been the moment she'd arrived on his doorstep.

"Can't tell how deep," Daryl murmured, eyeing it, "but you're gonna need stitches."

"You ever do them before?" she asked, grunting as he helped her stand.

"Can't say I have," he murmured, helping her into the truck.

"Well," she breathed, clutching her side, "I guess there's a first time for everything, huh?" She gasped in pain, and Daryl handed her a handkerchief out of his pocket, bunching it up in his hands.

"Hold that against it. I'll have ya home in no time." He slammed her door and rushed around, hopping into the truck and speeding off toward home, his heart hammering against his chest as the blood pounded in his ears. He glanced over at her once, watching how pale her face was, how she dizzily pressed her forehead against the cool glass on the door. He noticed the blood spurt out between her fingers, and his stomach dropped. He stepped on the gas and rushed toward home, praying everything would be ok.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"I got you," Daryl urged, carrying Carol through the cabin and into his room where he deposited her on the bed. She was pale, her forehead dotted with sweat. "Just lay back. I'll be right back." Carol nodded and leaned her head back against the pillow, closing her eyes when the room began to spin around her. She could feel the burn of the wound and the pull of her skin as the dried blood clung to her when she moved. She groaned, pushing her hand more firmly against the wound, feeling her stomach clench. For a moment, she thought she might be sick, but when he came back into the room, she took a few deep breaths and swallowed back the feeling.

"Alright. Can you…I gotta see what I'm workin' with." Carol nodded and weakly lifted up her shirt, exposing the wound and the slight swell of her stomach and the series of bruises that dotted her skin. Her gaze flickered over his face, watching the way his eyes focused on the wound, gently dabbing at the blood around it with a fresh cloth. She waited for it. She knew it was coming.

The muscles in her stomach jumped as Daryl poured some alcohol on the cloth. His gaze moved up to meet hers, and she clenched her jaw.

"This is gonna sting." She nodded and clenched the bed sheets between her fingers, biting her lip and groaning out the pain as he dabbed it along the wound. She threw her head back as the pain took over, and Daryl winced a little as he finished cleaning it. "Sorry."

"It's…it's fine. Just…just hurry." Daryl gave her a nod, drying off the wound before he began to sew. She cried out in pain at first, but eventually, she was reduced to a few flinches and groans. It took him a good twenty minutes to get her sewed up, his fingers surprisingly agile and gentle as they moved over her broken skin.

She noticed the way his gaze drifted from the wound to the bruises that covered her skin and to the way her belly swelled just slightly. He took a sharp breath in, and his gaze met hers, and she looked away. She braced herself, waiting for the question, waiting for him to figure it out.

"You're ok," he finally said, snipping the last of the thread off with a small pair of scissors. He grabbed a cotton swab and applied some antibiotic ointment to it, rolling it over the stitches, coating the wound. He then put a bandage there, his fingers gently smoothing down the edges of it, making certain it was completely covered. "The bruises…"

"I'm accident prone." It was an immediate response, practiced, one she'd used more times than she could count over the past few years.

"Yeah. My mama was, too. She fell down lots of stairs. Walked into lots of walls. Real clumsy. Always laughed it off. Me? I had lots of accidents myself. Had one so bad one time, I got put in the hospital with a fractured skull. They told the doctors I fell out of a tree." He scoffed at that, and his gaze met Carol's. Her eyes were filled with tears. He decided not to press it. "Think you're gonna be alright. You just rest."

"Thank you," she said softly, her fingers moving to pull her shirt back down. "Aren't you going to ask?" He gave her a little shrug.

"It don't matter. You're alright. We got through it. You just gotta rest." She felt the tears sting her eyes at that moment, and she sniffled. He got up and turned to leave, but he paused at the door, turning back. "That why you wanted to leave in the spring? You don't have to do that, you know? You don't gotta hide nothin' from me. You don't gotta come up with excuses 'cause you think I ain't gonna want you around. You're wrong, you know?" He ducked his head slightly when he watched her wipe at her eyes. "Can I get ya anything?"

"Some water, maybe?" she asked. He nodded.

"Be right back." As he disappeared from sight, Carol let out a soft sob, covering her mouth with her hand and pressing her other hand against her stomach. She bit back the tears as long as she could, but soon, the dam broke, and she curled up on her good side and cried into the pillow, hoping she could get it out of her system before he returned.

Daryl leaned against the truck bed and stared back at the cabin, replaying the events in his head. It all made so much sense now, why she'd been determined to learn to survive on her own, why she'd decided to only stay until the spring. She didn't want to burden him. But not just that, she thought he would think her child was a burden too.

The moment he'd noticed the swell of her belly and the look in her eyes, it all made sense. The crying herself to sleep, the way she'd finally broken free from her bastard of a husband and ran for help, the nausea. He'd thought she'd just been sick from the anxiety and the horrible abuse that had been inflicted upon her, but that wasn't it at all.

As he grabbed a bottle of water out of the truck and started for the house, he could hear her soft sobs from the bedroom window. His heart was heavy in his chest, and he had no idea how to comfort her. They were strangers. She didn't know him, and he was beginning to realize the vast depths of his lack of knowledge about her.

When he stepped back into the cabin, he debated about whether or not to leave her alone to cry it out or to take her the water and leave it on the bedside table. Against everything his head told him to do, he made his way back to find her curled up on the bed, brushing the tears out of her eyes. He stepped into the room, water bottle in hand, and she turned on the bed to look at him before silently reaching out and taking the bottle of water from him.

"You don't have to leave," he finally murmured, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "We'll find someplace safe. I'll help you keep your kid safe. You don't gotta do that by yourself."

"Thank you," she said with a sniffle. "But I don't want you to think you have to be some knight in shining armor. I need to know how to protect myself. I want to help. I want to pull my own weight."

"Alright," he said with a nod. "You just rest. Soon as you're healed and on your feet, I'll teach you how to shoot. Just don't think you gotta be runnin' off to have that baby 'cause you think I ain't gonna want you around. That ain't me. Don't know much about babies, but…"

"That makes two of us," Carol admitted. She shrugged. "I guess we can learn that one together, huh?" Daryl gave her a nervous half-smile, and she took a long sip of water.

"Get some sleep," he said with a nod toward her pillow. "I'll get supper started and bring it to ya when you're done." Carol nodded and watched Daryl leave the room. She took a shaky breath and lay her head back. Maybe, underneath the quiet redneck exterior, he really was a knight in shining armor after all.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"Try again."

"Daryl, we're wasting ammo," Carol muttered, reloading the shotgun like he'd showed her. She'd pretty much mastered the pistol, but the rifle was another animal altogether. The kickback on her shoulder was brutal, and she already had a bump and a bruise there from where the butt had slammed back against her after a series of shots.

"We got plenty. 'Sides, we can always go find more," he offered. Carol made a face.

"It's not like they're still producing it. Sometime, someday there'll be no ammo left, and…"

"And we'll start usin' stick and rocks if we have to. We'll be alright." Carol sighed and aimed the rifle again, this time hitting her target dead center. "See? You're a natural."

"I missed eight times," she pointed out.

"So? When Merle—my brother—was teachin' me, I missed twenty and he kicked my ass. But I learned. I got better." Carol pulled the trigger again, hitting her target once more. "See?" Carol gave him a half-hearted smile and handed the rifle back to Daryl. "It's gonna storm." Daryl looked upward, watching as a thick wall of clouds moved in.

"Yeah. Let's get goin'." They hopped into Daryl's truck and took off to head toward home. "You did good."

"Thanks," Carol said with a smile, running her fingers through her auburn locks. In the past month, she had healed from most of her injuries. She still got a twinge in her wrist on occasion, and she had a fresh, pink scar from where she'd fallen on her knife, but other than that, she was feeling much better.

They drove in silence for a while, and finally, Daryl cleared his throat.

"Why don't you talk about it?"

"What?" she asked, glancing at him from across the cab.

"Your baby," he pointed out, nodding toward the slight swell of her belly, as she tugged the bottom of her shirt, smoothing it over the barely-there swell.

"I don't know," she said with a little shrug. "I guess I'm still not completely used to the idea of it yet."

"Did your husband know?"

"No," she said, biting back the urge to cry, as she did every time she thought about how she'd planned to have an abortion and never let Ed know she'd ever been pregnant. As far as Ed understood, she was unable to have children, considering she never got pregnant. She'd lied to Ed. She'd hated him. And she'd never gathered that strength to protect herself from him until the moment he was beating her in their camp and endangering her child. It had been that moment that she'd really felt like a mother for the first time. "Not until the end. Not until he…" Her voice trailed off, and she flinched at the memory, feeling a twinge in her side as she recalled the force he'd used when he'd kicked the breath out of her.

"You don't have to talk about it," Daryl pointed out. "I mean, I get why ya hid it at first. But ya know I ain't got a problem with it. Even if I did, it's your baby, and I ain't gonna turn you out on your own 'cause you're a mom."

"It wasn't just that," Carol said softly. "I mean, I was worried, yes. I didn't know you. I know you a little better now, and I know you would never do something like that. You've taken good care of me." She smiled a little. "And now you're teaching me how to survive on my own."

"You ain't still thinkin' of leavin'?"

"No. I think you might be stuck with me now." She saw the grin he tried to hide, and it warmed her heart. "Thank you."

"What for?"

"Just for being there. For helping. I know I'm a mess."

"You ain't a mess. You're healin'. You don't talk about it, but I know what your husband did to ya, 'cause my old man used to do the same to my mama." He glanced at her, watching as she blinked back tears, and he felt immediately guilty for bringing it up. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok." Her voice was almost a whisper. "I don't…I didn't have anybody. It was Ed. He's all I had."

"I know. You don't gotta explain."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I have to explain it to myself, because I can't understand why I stayed with him all that time; why I let him hurt me that way."

"You told yourself he didn't mean it. That he loved ya in his way. Then you tell yourself you're gonna leave him, but you don't, 'cause you ain't got nowhere to go. Then you start thinkin' maybe this is the way it's s'posed to be." His face felt hot as the truck bounced down the deserted road. He could feel her eyes on him, and he swallowed hard. "I remember beggin' my mama to leave him. I remember her cryin' on the bathroom floor one night. Shit, I was probably just a baby. Four or five maybe. I just curled up in her lap, and we fell asleep. Woke up the next mornin' in my bed, and she was sleepin' on the floor between my bed and Merle's." He shook his head. "She took care of us. She just couldn't take care of herself."

"I'm sorry, Daryl."

"You don't have nothin' to be sorry for. He's the one that hurt you."

"Yeah," Carol murmured, taking in a slow breath.

"But he can't hurt you anymore." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her look at him.

"I don't want to talk about Ed anymore," Carol said quietly before turning her attention back to the road.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, for God's sakes," she snapped. The words bit through him, and he glanced at her, seeing her shrinking back in her seat. "I'm sorry, Daryl."

"It's none of my business. I just…I wanted you to know you ain't alone." He heard her take a shaky breath before she turned and stared out the window, watching the land pass them by.

Carol locked her bedroom door and stripped down to nothing but her underwear and bra. Daryl had cleared the room out for her a few weeks ago, and she quite liked it, though it was a bit masculine for her taste. But she was grateful for a bed to sleep in and a roof over her head, though sometimes at night she could hear the snarls of walkers in the distance, and it sent a chill right down her spine.

As she looked herself over in the mirror above her dresser drawer, she placed her hand flat against her stomach, turning to the side to see the swell in her stomach. Most of the bruises were long gone, save for a couple of them that were almost completely faded. She was thin. Too thin for a pregnant woman, but she ate when she could and made sure to take her vitamins. Daryl was always trying to get her to eat his leftovers, and she always refused, because the last thing she wanted to do was take from him. He was a good man who had helped her more than anybody in her entire life, and all she could do was cry at night and snap at him when he tried to comfort her and ease her mind over the abuse she'd suffered. She felt like a horrible person, and he never bat an eye at it. Today in the car, she'd snapped at him, and he'd taken it. He was a very patient man, she'd realized, putting up with her as she pulled herself back together and tried to remember what it was like to live in a world without Ed Peletier.

"I don't know who you are," she whispered, gently caressing the small swell of her stomach. "I'm scared for you. I'm scared, because I know you're part of him, too. I believe we're all born innocent. I have to believe that, because you couldn't be like him. You couldn't." She closed her eyes and felt the tears burning there. She took a shaky breath, her fingers gently dancing across the soft skin of her stomach. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Her hand ran up to a small car along her ribcage. She remembered the night he'd pulled a knife across her skin, dragging it deep enough to bring the blood, shallow enough that she wouldn't need stitches. She remembered him hissing into her ear, telling her she deserved it. He'd never told her what she'd done to deserve it, but Ed rarely did. When he wanted to hurt her, he hurt her. It was as simple as that.

She wrapped her arms around herself, shuddering at the memory. He'd left his mark on her, and it was something she'd live with forever. _You might have left your mark on me, Ed, but not on this baby. Never on this baby. This is mine. This is for me. Not for you." _

A soft knock came to the door, and Carol quickly pulled on a change of clothes.

"Just a minute," she called out, sliding a sweater over her head. When she was decent, she opened the door, coming face to face with Daryl.

"Hey," he said quietly, standing a bit awkwardly in the doorway. "You sure you're ok?"

"I'm fine. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just…"

"I get it," he said with a little shrug. "Ain't easy to talk about."

"No, it's not," she said with a sigh, "but…I don't sleep at night, Daryl. Not really. I start to fall asleep, and then I dream about Ed, and then I wake up crying. I don't miss Ed. I hate him. And I hate…" She took a deep breath and looked away. "I hate myself for being weak. I hate myself for letting him make me weak." Daryl swallowed hard and watched her from across the threshold. "I don't ever want to be that woman that showed up at your doorstep. Never again." She shook her head. "I want to find the woman I used to be before I let Ed shape me into his punching bag." She blinked back the tears. "I'm sorry, Daryl."

"You don't gotta apologize." Carol gritted her teeth and held onto the doorknob with a white-knuckle grip.

"What's wrong with me? I look in the mirror, and I don't even know what I see anymore. What kind of person lets someone do a thing like that? What kind of person lets someone chip away everything that makes them who they are and leaves them a shell of a person?" Daryl backed up a little, leaning against the hallway wall.

"A person like me." He swallowed hard. "We both know what it's like to have somebody who's supposed to love you use you as a punching bag when they can't handle their own shit. They put that on us, and we take it. We take it 'til we can't anymore. We fight back."

"I didn't fight back," she whimpered, brushing her tears away. "Not until the end. Not until I realized he was really going to kill me; kill this baby. I told him and he stopped, and then…"

"I know," he murmured. "I ain't gonna pretend I know what you went through. It's always different, but it's always the same. They don't get to win. We just fight through it." Carol took a couple of breaths, swallowing the lump in her throat, and she pressed her hand against her stomach. Daryl's gazed moved from her eyes to her hand upon her belly, and he gave her a little nod. "You got a lot to fight for, you know?"

"I know," she breathed. "I know."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Y'alright?" Daryl asked with a wince as he watched her lean over a paper sack in the cab of the truck. Carol nodded bleakly before heaving again and vomiting in to the bag. Daryl chewed his lower lip and cracked the window open slightly.

"We'll be home soon. You oughta rest."

"It'll pass, Daryl," she assured him. "It always does."

"You s'posed to be this sick?"

"It could be worse, I'm sure, but I don't exactly have a doctor I can call, do I?" She heaved again and then she wiped her mouth. "Sorry. I just…"

"Don't apologize," he muttered. "You just do what you gotta do, and I'll get you those crackers when we get home." Carol gave him a little smile. The past couple of weeks, she'd been overly nauseated, and Daryl had discovered that the only thing that really calmed her stomach was unsalted crackers. He'd stocked up on them on their run today, though she assured him she wasn't going to be sick forever. Still, he wasn't taking any chances, apparently.

He slowed and took an easy turn onto the road that led to their little cabin. The truck jostled along the dirt road, and it wasn't long before Daryl hit the brakes, sending Carol lurching forward.

"What's wrong?" she asked, steadying herself against the dash, eyes wide as she saw him white-knuckling the steering wheel.

"Fresh tracks," he pointed out, nodding down the trail where several tire tracks were visible, and they certainly didn't belong to Daryl's pickup.

"Daryl, who could they be?"

"I dunno, but we ain't takin' any chances." He let off the brake, and they slowly rolled down the road, as Daryl grabbed his pistol and placed it on his lap. Carol scrambled for hers, doing the same, wanting to be ready, wanting to be able to help him in any way that she could.

They were silent, listening to the sounds of gravel crunching under the tires as the rusted truck frame creaked on the springs. Carol felt her breath catch in her chest, and a protective hand moved instinctively to her stomach. Daryl noticed this movement out of the corner of his eye.

"You stay in the truck when we get there. We get into somethin', I don't want to get separated. "

"Ok," she said with an anxious nod. "They could be friends?"

"There ain't friends anymore. There's animals and there's walkers and there's people, and all any of 'em are tryin' to do is survive. It comes down to us and them? I ain't riskin' you or your baby." Carol swallowed hard at that. She wouldn't say it, but Daryl certainly hadn't held that opinion the night she'd arrived on his doorstep, battered and bleeding. But she could see it in the way his jaw was set, the flare in his nostrils as his gaze darted about in front of the truck, looking for any sign of who these people might be. He wasn't taking any chances. He was protecting her. He was protecting her child.

The reality of it hit her, and she felt a jolt run through her. But before she had any time to ponder what any of it meant, Daryl rolled the truck to a stop, and they sat there. He cut the engine, and they watched the cabin, as some rough-looking men traipsed through the property. She heard what could have been the onset of a growl escape Daryl's throat when one man laughed and hooted as he drove the motorcycle about the place, the tire spitting mud through the air.

"Daryl," she murmured, placing a hand on his arm. "It's ok."

"They ain't got a right," he grunted. He reached for the door handle.

"Where are you going?" Her grip tightened on his leather coat sleeve.

"You got things in there you need. For the baby." He motioned toward her stomach.

"I can get more vitamins. Come on, please. Let's go. We'll come back after they've gone."

"Say they don't leave?" Daryl asked. "This is _our_ home. They ain't takin' it."

"We've been talking about leaving for the winter anyway. Maybe we should just…" She sighed heavily, her voice trailing off as Daryl got out of the truck.

"Wait here." Carol's hand shook as she gripped her gun, watching as he walked a few paces in front of the truck. Then he froze. He looked back at the truck, and Carol swallowed hard. She couldn't understand the way he was looking at her, but she saw the struggle in his eyes. He wanted to go in there and beat the hell out of the assholes that were ransacking the place, but he'd stopped. He'd looked at her. He'd looked _to_ her, and now he was walking back to the truck.

Carol felt a sense of relief wash over her, and she relaxed a little when Daryl got back into the truck.

"We'll come back tomorrow. They ain't gone by then, we'll run 'em off." He turned the key, and the engine sputtered. "Fuck."

"It's ok," she soothed. "It's ok. Just…just relax. Try it again." Her gaze darted toward the house, where one of the men stopped and looked in their direction. Her heart jumped, but she said nothing. Daryl tried the engine again. It nearly turned over but sputtered and died. She looked back toward the house again where the man who'd spotted them had grabbed one of his buddies and now they were both looking their way.

"Piece of shit," he muttered, stepping on the gas as he tried once more, getting the truck started. It roared to life, and the whole truck jerked in place.

"Let's go," Caro urged, never taking her eyes off the house. Daryl followed her gaze, and he felt his stomach drop.

"Shit," he murmured. At that point, the man on his motorcycle started up the path, firing shots at the truck. Daryl slammed the truck into reverse and nearly backed into a tree trying to get turned around.

"Go!" she cried out as a bullet ricocheted off the tailgate. The tired spun dirt and dust into the air, and Daryl fought to keep his grip on the steering wheel as they jostled over the bumpy terrain. The roar of the motorcycle growing closer had them both glancing in the rear view mirror.

It was when they neared the road that Daryl caught sight of the cars coming out ahead of him. They'd gone through the woods, hoping to cut them off at the road, and it looked like they'd succeeded.

"God damn it!" he hollered, as Carol gripped the door handle and prayed to God this wasn't the end. As the truck skidded out onto the road, Daryl slammed on the brakes, narrowly avoiding hitting the man on the motorcycle, who fired a shot at the truck. The bullet pinged off the bumper, and Daryl instinctively reached for Carol's hand. She curled her fingers around his and met his gaze. His gaze moved back to the road in front of them. They were surrounded, no escape. Eight men were getting out of cars and brandishing various weapons, and they were coming for them, eyes wild. Feral. "It's gonna be ok," he murmured. "I swear to God, I won't let them hurt you."


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

_Author's Note: This chapter contains extreme violence and the suggestion of attempted rape. Could be a trigger warning._

"Why don't ya'll come on out of that truck so we can have us a little chat?" The larger man that stood in the center and slightly ahead of the other men craned his neck and peered in. Carol gave Daryl's hand a firm squeeze, and his gaze moved to hers. He saw the flash of fear in her eyes, he saw the way her chest rose and fall with quick, panicked breaths.

"S'gonna be ok. Stay in the truck. You hear me?"

"Daryl," she murmured, lip trembling, "please don't get out."

"Hey. Look at me." She turned to him, her eyes brimmed with tears. He said nothing. He just held her gaze for a long moment before giving her a little nod and tucking his gun into his waistband. She swallowed hard and gripped her gun, holding it out of view as Daryl swung the truck door opened and got out. He shut the door behind himself and stood there before the eight men. Two of them held handguns, another two held shotguns. The other four were slightly less menacing with their lead pipes, crowbars and metal golf clubs. Still, he was one man against eight.

"Your little friend, too," the leader said, peering into the cab of the truck. The man who'd been on the motorcycle slinked toward the truck, his long legs carrying him quickly as he ran his fingers through his greasy, stringy hair.

"She's a redhead," he said with a chuckle. "I like me a redhead."

"Cl…" one of the men started.

"Claimed!" the long-legged man sneered, pointing his gun at the man who wielded the golf-club. He shot him where he stood. The other men didn't even flinch at his action. Daryl felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "She's mine. When I'm done with her, ya'll can have your way, but I get first dibs." Daryl looked toward the truck, where Carol was looking back at him, unwilling to look at the man who had just claimed her. Whatever the hell that meant.

"You gonna let him just kill Tony like that?" one of the men asked, looking to the leader.

"He's been trying to claim my shit for weeks now," the leader said with a shrug. "He's been stealin' from all of us. It was only a matter of time before I threw him to the walkers anyway." He turned to look at the shooter, stepping close. "But you pull a stunt like that again, Len, and I'll blow your fuckin' head off, you got me?" Len, the claimer, nodded his head.

"Sorry, Joe. Won't happen again." Len swallowed nervously and turned to look at his prize. "Come on out, little lady."

"Leave her alone," Daryl grunted through gritted teeth.

"What's that? He speaks?" Len asked, taking a step toward Daryl. "She your woman?" Daryl said nothing. He locked his gaze on Len's and drew his gun. The other men took a step back, and the leader, Joe, drew his own.

"You might wanna re-think that move, son. It's seven to one. You won't win. We can make this a little less painful for you, but we're gonna have the lady, one way or the other."

"You ain't gonna fuckin' touch her," Daryl seethed, pulling back the hammer, aiming it straight at Joe's head.

"You realize that if you pull that trigger, you're a dead man. We're gonna fuck your woman, then we're gonna kill her. Then we might just fuck her again before we kill you." Len tapped his gun against the window. "Come on out, sweetheart." Len yanked open the door and grabbed Carol roughly by the arm, simultaneously knocking the gun from her hand she'd had hidden behind her back.

"Oh, we got a brave one here," Len chuckled, kicking the gun under the pickup.

"Don't touch her!" Daryl screamed. "Don't fuckin' touch her!"

"Calm yourself down, son," Joe warned. "You ain't in the position to be makin' threats here."

"Daryl, it's ok," Carol murmured, her eyes glassed over as she peered at the ground. Daryl noticed the way her posture had turned into something resembling the shell of a woman she'd been the night he'd found her on his door step.

Len grabbed at Carol's waist, pulling her back against him, pushing himself into her. She cringed at the feeling of his erection pressing into her ass, and she saw Daryl's hand begin to shake from the corner of her eye.

"Drop the gun, boy," Joe warned, stepping forward to press the muzzle of his gun into the back of Daryl's neck. "Drop it now, or we'll kill you now and make it that much worse for her." He white-knuckled the grip, as Len roughly ran his hand up Carol's side, groping her breast. He then moved his hand roughly down her front, tugging up on her shirt, revealing the barely-visible swell of her stomach. He roughly pushed his nose against the side of her neck, inhaling sharply.

The gun fell from Daryl's fingers, roughing up a bit of dust as it fell. He felt his stomach lurch at the realization of what was about to happen, and he closed his eyes briefly as Joe patted him down with his free hand. Once satisfied, Joe grabbed Daryl's gun and holstered it.

"Please," Carol murmured, tears spilling down her cheeks as she squeezed her eyes. "I'm pregnant." Len pulled back suddenly, and for a moment, Daryl thought he might let her go. But it was as if a light went off in the man's head. His mouth spread into a wide sneer, and he chuckled, running his hand down her thigh.

"Perfect. Always wanted to fuck a pregnant lady." Carol whimpered as he slid his hand around her neck, dragging her down onto the ground as he fumbled with his belt buckle. The others chuckled, and Daryl kept his eyes on Carol's face, willing her to look at him, but she looked away, locking herself up somewhere deep inside of herself, a place she'd gone to many times before when Ed had hurt her. She let herself go limp as he reached up her shirt, groping her breast through her bra.

As Daryl watched helplessly as Len pushed her into the dirt, crawling over her, clawing at the button on her jeans, something inside of him snapped, and he reached behind him, grabbing Joe by the elbow, twisting the man's arm in such a way that something snapped, and the gun dangled from his fingers before falling to the ground.

And just like that, two men were on him, kicking him mercilessly in the side as Joe struggled away, grabbing for his gun away. The one lifted the lead pipe, hitting Daryl square in the back with it, knocking the wind from his lungs, while the other grabbed Daryl by the hair and tugged him up before knocking him back against the pickup, punching him hard in the jaw.

"Daryl, no!" Carol cried out, her legs kicking now as she fought against Len, fought against what he was trying to do to her, fought against the thought that she was about to lose Daryl and she was probably going to die, and the last thing Daryl was going to see was her letting this happen. It couldn't happen.

Daryl lunged forward, grabbing for Len, but the man with the led pipe grabbed him by the back of the neck and squeezed hard.

"Turn him around, Harley!" Joe ordered. Daryl pulled his head forward before slamming it back against Harley's nose. Then he went at Joe, pushing the large man against one of the other cars, curling his fingers around his neck. And then, as quickly as he'd gotten the upper hand, a gunshot rang out, and Daryl went stumbling back, pain tearing through his side like fire and lightning. And everything went blurry. He could hear Carol screaming his name, and he felt his knees buckling as Joe stood before him. And then he lay still in the dirt, face down, lungs struggling for breath.

Carol fought, bringing her knee up to get Len in the groin. He fell back, and another man grabbed for her pulling her to her feet. She struggled, pushing at him, pushing to get to Daryl, but someone grabbed the back of her head and tugged her hair. Hard. She cried out, and she was falling in the dirt again, choking on the dust that filled her lungs.

Joe was on her now, pressing his knee into the back of her leg, pinning her there. She cried out in pain as his hand came around her neck, pulling her at an unnatural angle.

"Oh, honey, you ain't cryin' over that sack of shit, are ya? Bet you ain't never been with a _real_ man before."

"God dammit, Joe!" Len wheezed, pulling himself up, rubbing his crotch where Carol had hit him. "I claimed her. She's mine!"

"You ain't got the balls to handle her, Len," Joe chuckled. "You lost your turn. Back of the line, boy." It was in that moment of distraction that Carol reached behind her, feeling for Joe's holster. He chuckled. "That's the idea, sweet heart. Just enjoy it. Just let it go." And then she wrapped her hand around the grip of Daryl's gun and pulled it free before releasing a shot into Joe's gut. He slumped over her, coughing against her neck. She pulled herself up on her elbows, quickly squirming free as she made a scramble for Joe's gun. She dug her heels into the dirt, scooting back as the other men advanced on her. She reached Joe's gun just in time, firing another shot, putting down the man with the crossbar.

She scrambled away, pulling herself to her feet, her chest heaving as she fought for breath as the other men advanced on it. Her hands shook as she held both guns, firing them blindly as she blinked through tears. A hot rage rushed through her veins. And then she looked for Daryl, and she couldn't find him, and everything stopped making sense.

She hit another man in chest, and he fell to the ground, unmoving. It was that a smattering of bone and blood spread over the dirt and another man fell that Carol realized Daryl had gotten to her gun under the pickup. The men turned on him, and together, Carol and Daryl took out the rest, one by one.

It only took a few moments, and when it was over, they stood in the dirt and the blood, both hurting, both gasping for breath, and then Carol rushed to him, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Oh God, Daryl," she sobbed. "I thought you were dead."

"M'fine. Bullet went through." He groaned, a bloody hand grasping at the back of her shirt. "You ok?"

"I'm fine," she gasped. "I'm gonna be ok. I think I'm gonna be ok." Daryl leaned on her, swaying on his feet a little.

"We gotta get back to the house," he grunted. "Gotta sew this up." Carol nodded, helping him to the truck. She took one last look back at the group of cars and the motorcycle that stood there in the middle.

"Your bike," she said gently.

"Leave it. Ain't important," he muttered, holding onto her tightly as they limped to the truck together. Once Daryl was inside, Carol climbed into the driver's seat and turned the truck around, heading back down the road toward the cabin.

"You sure you're ok?" he asked, gritting his teeth as he lifted his shirt, checking the wound. Carol glimpsed it quickly and felt her stomach turn. It looked bad, but he didn't seem too concerned about himself.

"I'm fine. Nothing I can't get over," she murmured, hands gripping the wheel. The truck jolted in one of the ruts, and Carol groaned, putting her hand on her stomach.

"The baby?"

"Daryl, you should worry about yourself," she insisted. "You're the one that got shot." She pulled the truck around the bend, and that was when they saw it. "Oh God. Daryl."

Daryl looked up just in time to see his home up in flames, black smoke snaking out the windows and bright flames crawling up the wooden siding.

"It's gone," Carol sobbed, bringing her hand to her mouth. Daryl sat frozen in place, watching as everything burned in front of him. Carol turned to look at him, wiping at her eyes as she saw the flames dance in his. Walkers began to roam out from the woods, and Carol slammed on the gas, heading out another way they rarely took because it wasn't as clear. But she had to get him somewhere to clean him up and get his wound sewn up.

She blinked back the tears as they watched their home disappear behind them.

"I'm sorry," she whimpered, shaking her head.

"Ain't your fault. You're safe. That's all that matters." He leaned his head against the cool glass on the passenger's side door, closing his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths. He had to keep breathing. He had to keep awake. He had to make sure she was safe, even if he died in the process. "Just keep drivin'. Don't stop 'til we get to town. Don't stop." And then he passed out against the door, and Carol floored the gas, blinking through her tears and praying it wasn't too late to save his life.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

_Please wake up. Please. Don't leave me. Not you_.

Carol winced as she ran the alcohol wipe over his wound. She hadn't done the best stitch job, but for what she'd had to work with, she'd done a pretty ok job. It had been hours, almost a day, from what she could tell. It was dark, and the sound of scraping footsteps echoed through the old gas station.

She held her breath, listening to the sound of the candle flame flicker as her breath quickened. When the sound passed without a passing snarl, she let out a slow, shaky breath and resumed her work on Daryl's wound.

He'd lost a lot of blood, and he'd been in and out of consciousness. She'd gotten some water down his throat and even some antibiotics she'd found in the glove compartment of the truck from a run they'd made a week or so ago. But he hadn't fully woken yet, and she was getting worried.

She pulled out a fresh bandage and taped it over his wound before straining to turn him on his side so she could clean the exit wound. It was a chore, to say the least, but she didn't mind. She was meticulous in cleaning the area and putting antibiotics down his throat, because she owed him. He'd saved her life more than once. The least she could do for him was save his life, too.

When he was all bandaged up, she rolled him onto his back again before taking a flashlight and perusing the shelves to see what might be edible for supper. She picked out a bag of potato chips and a ridiculously overpriced can of cooked meat that had a pull tab to open the metal lid.

She ate in silence, sitting on top of the counter, keeping watch over the area, making certain Daryl was safe. Every once in a while, he would groan in his sleep, and she took that as a good sign. As much as she hated for him to be in pain, maybe that pain would pull him out of unconsciousness.

She quickly finished up her meager meal and moved back to sit next to Daryl on the floor. She watched the way his head moved back and forth, his hair falling into his eyes. She gently touched her fingers to his forehead, pushing the hair back, stroking his hair in soothing motions.

She thought back to that day, about how they'd worked together so well on their run, and then they'd returned home to find it wasn't home anymore. It had been invaded, and then they became the prey of a bunch of sick men who'd been without rules, without humanity for far too long.

She spread out the sleeping bag next to his and lay back, folding her arms behind her head, staring up at the ceiling that was stained from leaking rain water. She took a few shaky breaths, tentatively thinking back to the events of that afternoon. She'd come far too close to death than she even wanted to think about. She'd been hurt, and those men…they'd wanted to do far more than hurt her. It made her skin crawl. When she first pulled that trigger, Ed's face had flashed into her mind, and all she could think about was how she would never, ever let another man hurt her like that again.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she lay there next to Daryl. She fought back the tears, thinking about how close she'd come to losing him, to losing the baby, to losing herself. It was all a bit of a blur, but she could still feel Len pressed against her, still feel his breath against her face as he leered at her and whispered those disgusting things.

And then, at the end, they'd stood together in a pool of blood, just grateful to be alive, grateful to have each other. And now he was struggling to hold on, and she felt like her mind was spinning out of control. She was terrified about what could have happened, what might have happened to her baby today.

She heard a loud bang on one of the doors, and she jolted upright, gasping in the dim light as she peered over to see a withered hand smacking against the door. The low snarl from a walker followed, and she shivered.

"Wake up," she murmured, gently stroking Daryl's arm, nudging him a little. "Please wake up."

With the first rays of sunlight filtered into the store, Carol's eyes fluttered open, and she immediately went into panic mode. Daryl was gone.

Her heart thundered in her chest, and she felt his sleeping bag. It was still warm. Her breathing slowed a little, and she stood up and padded around the store to look for him.

When she heard the clink of metal against porcelain, she chewed her lip and made her way to the small bathroom to find Daryl standing there completely shirtless with his back to her. She gasped softly at the sight of his back, covered in scars, his bandage soaked through with blood.

"Oh God," she murmured. "You're bleeding again." Daryl turned quickly, his eyes narrowing when he saw her.

"How long was I out?"

"More than half a day," she murmured. "How are you feeling?" She moved into the cramped bathroom, and he flinched as she touched his side, just above his bandage. He'd found a pair of scissors and was getting ready to cut the bandage away. "Here. Let me." Daryl slowly lowered his hands and let Carol cut away his bandages. She bit her lip and examined the area, holding a flashlight up to check it. "Looks good. Looks like it's just drainage. You're not bleeding. Thank God." She sucked in a sharp breath and exhaled slowly. Daryl watched her, watched the way relief filled her face, and he startled when her eyes dragged up to his. His hand moved up to her face, and she gasped softly.

"You're hurt."

"What?" She peered into the mirror, letting the glow of the flashlight illuminate her face. She had a bruise just across her cheek.

"I'm ok." He placed his thumb and forefinger gently against her jaw and turned her face so he could get a better look.

"The baby?"

"I feel ok," she said with a nod. "We're fine, Daryl. I'm worried about you right now." She skirted around him and stepped out of the bathroom to grab a pack of paper towels and a bottle of water. She went back to him and got to work cleaning the wound and putting some antibiotic ointment on it.

Once the wound was dressed again, she clipped the bandages into place with some safety pins. Her fingers skirted over his ribs, and she felt his muscles jump beneath her fingers. Her body responded in a way she hadn't expected, and her pulse began to quicken. Her mouth watered, and she had to take a step back.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Nothing," she uttered quickly, shaking her head. "You're good to go. Put your shirt back on, and we'll find something for breakfast." She turned to leave, but he gently touched her shoulder. She looked down at his hand briefly before dragging her gaze back up to meet his. "I was afraid." He nodded, urging her on. "You saved me."

"You kidding? Think it was you that saved me," he murmured, a little uncertain if they were actually talking about yesterday or not, but it was true. She'd saved him. She'd opened up parts of him he hadn't even known were there. He'd never felt this way about another person. He'd never felt so protective of somebody in his whole life. Not even of himself. He'd been reckless, and he'd been prepared to spend the rest of his days locked up in his cabin avoiding everything that had gone to shit around him. And then she'd shown up, and here she was, telling him he'd saved her. They'd saved each other.

"What happened yesterday," she murmured, shaking her head, "I never…I never thought I could…"

"We did what we had to do. We survived," he assured her, gently squeezing her shoulder. She nodded slowly.

"I feel like…like everything is just a big, confusing mess."

"Yeah," he agreed, running his fingers through his hair. "Know what you mean. But we'll make it. We will. If we can get through what we already got through, then we can make it through anything." Carol eyed him for a long moment before she took a deep breath and stood on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek before gently brushing her thumb over that spot. She watched the way his eyes flickered to her lips and how for a brief moment, he looked like he wanted to kiss her. But he didn't. He couldn't. Not yet.

"We've got each other, right?" she asked, peering up into his eyes through her long lashes. He took a shuddering breath and let it out slowly.

"Yeah. Yeah, we do."


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Daryl added another bunch of kindling to the fire, wincing as his side ached where his wound was beginning to heal. It had been a couple of weeks since he'd been shot, and while he was pretty much back on his feet, he tired easily. And Carol wasn't much better. She was exhausted, probably still trying to catch up on sleep she'd lost helping take care of him. He felt guilty. She'd done so much for him, tenderly taking care of his wound and changing his bandages. She'd gotten water for them and had even gone on a couple of runs by herself for supplies.

They'd started traveling, heading east, not certain of what they'd find, but they took their time, stopping every night in a new place to rest and eat and refuel. They wanted to put as much distance between themselves and everything that had happened that day at the cabin.

She was sleeping, curled up in a sleeping bag, facing him. The warm glow from the fire illuminated her features. The soft curve of her jaw, her gorgeous, long eyelashes, the way her lips curved into an almost smile as she slept. He could stare at her for hours. In fact, he had been. He felt a little guilty, watching her like that, but she'd done more for him than anybody else ever had in his whole entire life. She was like coming up for air.

He knew what she'd been through, and he wouldn't blame her if she never wanted to look at another man again, but over the past few nights, his mind and wandered, and his heart would pound when they sat close. His palms would sweat, and he'd feel this sinking feeling in his stomach like everything he'd ever wanted was right there, and it was never going to be his.

Carol shifted in her sleep, and Daryl kept his eye on her, watching the way she stretched and moved her hand down to lay protectively over her stomach through the material of the sleeping bag. She wasn't that woman who'd arrived on his doorstep bleeding and broken and scared for her life. She was something else now. He'd seen this determination in her, this willingness to just survive. She wasn't this scared, broken woman anymore. She had scars, ghosts of her past that stayed with her forever. But so did he. And the more he considered her, the more he wanted from her. He felt like a selfish son of a bitch for letting his mind wander and wonder when she had been through so much. She was somebody's mother, for Christ's sake.

She'd been through more than most people could imagine, aside from him. He knew. Maybe he didn't know everything directly and in detail, but he knew. He knew it when he caught her staring off into space, sad memories ghosting over her face as she thought. He knew it when she'd wake him with her crying in the night, something she still did on the very rare occasion, but not nearly as often as she had at first.

And tonight would be one of those nights.

It started as a soft moan, and the gentle smile creased into a frown. And then her brow furrowed, and Daryl's heart quickened. He scooted closer to her, reaching for her hand, gently stroking his fingers over hers.

"S'alright. I'm here," he assured her. She relaxed for a moment, sighing and rolling onto her back. Daryl watched her for a moment, and just when he thought Carol had calmed, she let out a little sob, and he gently reached over to shake her shoulder. "Hey. Hey. S'ok." Carol sat up quickly, panting, wiping at her eyes. "Hey. Look at me. You're ok."

"Daryl?" she asked, a bit out of focus, her gaze shifting around as she adjusted to the reality of where she was. Where they were.

"Yeah. It's ok. You were just dreamin'," he promised. She reached out to him, her hands clinging to his arms, her eyes glassy with tears. "It's ok. You're ok. He ain't gonna hurt you." She flinched, and she looked away for a moment before taking a deep breath. "It was Ed?"

"No," she murmured, her lip trembling. "You. You were…you were dead. And they…" She shuddered. "I couldn't stop them. And you turned, and I wanted to die." Daryl felt his heart sink as she described her nightmare.

"Look at me," he urged, as the tears slipped down her cheeks. "I ain't goin' nowhere either. I'm here."

"Promise?" she asked, her hands shaking.

"I promise." Carol threw her arms around his neck, and she buried her face against his chest, sobbing as he stroked the back of her head. He swallowed the lump in his throat and gathered her into his lap, pulling her close, rocking her gently.

Her fingers hooked into his the neck of his shirt, and he stilled. He didn't know what to do as her warm breath seeped through the fabric of his shirt, and she leaned up to press a kiss to his chin. Then his jaw. Then she was kissing his mouth, and he choked back a cry in his throat as she let out a breath against his lips.

She looked in his eyes for a moment, giving him no chance to speak before her lips were on his again, and his hands were gripping her waist, and he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do next. He couldn't be that guy. She was scared. She was hurting. She needed to feel something else besides the horrors of what she was feeling now, but this? Was this what she needed? Was this what he was supposed to do?

Her tongue slid against his lips, and his mouth was on fire. She tasted like sweet mint, and her fingers were like feathers as they caressed the back of his neck. He shivered against her, pulling her closer, and she moaned against his lips when he tasted her. And then his head was screaming at him, and he couldn't focus, and despite what his heart wanted, despite what his body craved, he stopped. He gently pushed back on her shoulders.

"Stop. Carol, please." She broke away, hands gripping his arms, eyes staring into his. And then a realization hit her, and she flinched.

"God, Daryl. I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm so sorry." Her lip was trembling, and all he wanted to do was kiss her and tell her it would be ok, but he was terrified. He couldn't do this to her. Not to her. She was too important.

"Don't," he murmured. "Don't." He gently placed his hand against her cheek, curling his fingers into her hair. "You don't gotta do this. It's ok."

"I don't want to lose you," she breathed, resting her forehead against his, her shoulders trembling as she fought to calm her own nerves.

"I ain't goin' anywhere. You got me, alright?" Carol sighed softly and rested her head against his shoulder. He swallowed hard, feeling the way her arms curled under his, wrapping around his waist now, holding him, unwilling to let him go.

When Carol woke in the morning, her throat felt dry, and she remembered everything that had happened last night. She remembered waking up from that horrible nightmare, she remembered kissing him. She remembered telling him she didn't want to lose him. She'd come so very close to saying something else, but she'd stopped herself, and she'd just let him hold her, because it was enough.

Daryl was already awake, and as soon as he saw her sit up, he reached for a plate he'd had sitting by the fire, covered.

"Still warm if you're hungry."

"Thanks," she murmured, taking the plate and digging in, not caring what it was the moment the food touched her lips and her stomach reminded her how hungry she was.

They ate together in silence, and when they were finished, Carol put her plate down and looked straight at him.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"Already told you. Don't gotta apologize for that."

"You're my friend," she murmured. "You've been there for me though..so much. I'm sorry if I made things different between us."

"Different," he murmured, pondering the word for a moment, as Carol stood and went to gather supplies to freshen up with. She padded across the floor to the small bathroom, and she was surprised when she turned to the sink to see Daryl standing behind her. "Different ain't bad." She turned to face him.

"No?"

"No," he murmured. "You kissin' me was…was good different. Just didn't want ya to think I didn't…" He sighed quietly, his shoulders slumping. "You been through a lot." Carol narrowed her eyes at him.

"So have you. You almost died, Daryl."

"I ain't talkin' about that. Talkin' about your husband."

"Why are we talking about him?" she bristled, turning back to the mirror, her hands shaking as she squirted a dot of toothpaste onto her brush. Her eyes met his in the mirror as she began to brush her teeth. Daryl turned to lean against the door frame. He waited patiently as she finished brushing her teeth, before he finally couldn't take it anymore.

"You don't talk about it. You don't talk about what he did to you." She paused, leaned down, spat into the sink and wiped her mouth with a hand towel.

"You _know_ what he did to me. I don't want to talk about it. I don't…it happened. I remember it every night, Daryl. I will _never_ forget what he did to me." She reached for a water bottle, took a swig, rinsed her mouth and spat again. When she turned to face him, his eyes were locked on her face. "You don't have to treat me like I'm going to break. I've been hurt. I have." She reached out, stroking his arm. "But so have you. And we're still here. We're not broken. You don't have to treat me like I'm made of glass. It just reminds me that…that I'm just a victim. And I'm not."

"You ain't. You ain't just that."

"So stop treating me like I am, ok?" She smiled a little, her fingers brushing over his.

"You wanted me to keep goin'? That's what you're sayin'?"

"I love that you didn't," she said quietly. "You were worried about me. You were thinking about me, and that's the sweetest thing anybody's ever done for me. You stopped it. But you…you need to know that one of these days, I'm going to need you not to stop. And I need to know that you want…what I want." Daryl felt his heat begin to jackhammer in his chest, and his tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"I do," he admitted, his face flushing pink as Carol closed the gap between them. She brought her hands up to his face, and she stood on her tiptoes. She pressed a kiss to his forehead, and then to his nose, and then she brushed her lips against his.

"Good," she whispered. "Come on. Let's go. We've got a lot of miles ahead of us." Daryl nodded blankly, his heart still thundering like crazy in his chest. His stomach twisted into knots, and he finally turned to follow her. A lot of miles, indeed.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

They didn't know where they were going. It was just a silent promise to one another that they'd keep driving until they both felt like stopping. It wasn't time yet. Maybe it never would be. Maybe they'd spend the rest of whatever time they had left driving around the country, looking for a place to settle down, only to be chased off by walkers or people who'd been too far broken to be put back together. So far, they'd encountered not a single living soul. Just walkers. Animals. The occasional mutilated corpse strewn along the highway. It was all there was, and the farther they traveled, the fresher the air became, the more Carol seemed to brighten, the more Daryl felt telling her things he was too terrified to admit out loud.

Carol perked up in the cab as she spotted a sign just ahead.

"Look," she said with a point. "South Carolina."

"You thinkin' about stopping?"

"No," she said with a shrug. "It's just been a long time since I've been out of Georgia. Feels like a lifetime." She peered out the window. "I've never even been to the ocean. Not even the Georgia coast." Daryl glanced at her briefly but looked back at the road.

"We gotta think about where we're stoppin' tonight."

"Can I make a request?"

"Alright," Daryl said with a light-hearted chuckle.

"I've always dreamed of sleeping in one of those big, beautiful houses like they have in Charleston. I know we won't be anywhere near Charleston, but if we find a house like those along the way, we should stop."

"I'll do my best," Daryl said with a nod. Carol smiled and sighed, bringing her hand across the seat to lay over his. This was new for both of them, but it was nice to have someone, to have some kind of connection in a world where these kinds of connections barely even existed anymore. It was like they had a piece of the old with them, right there in the cab of that little pickup.

He gently brushed his thumb over her knuckles before curling his fingers around hers. He'd never been a hand holding kind of guy. Never been the kind of guy who could fall into a relationship with a woman in pieces. Slowly. His heart was there. His body was there. But he was practicing the art of patience. The last thing he wanted to do was rush her, despite the fact that it had been her to kiss him first, her to push past the boundaries of their tentative friendship, a friendship built on survival and need.

"You take it this morning? Your vitamin?" Daryl asked, giving Carol's hand a squeeze.

"I did," she responded, a smile quirking at the corner of her mouth. She placed her hand on her belly, just over where the swell had started. She was thin, maybe too thin for a woman who was about to start into her second trimester, but she seemed healthy, and so far, everything with the pregnancy seemed to be going according to plan.

"You think it's a boy or a girl?" he wondered.

"I don't know," she said with a little shrug. "I guess I haven't thought that far yet. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it's happening." She shook her head. "If I'd had my way to begin with, it wouldn't be." She frowned deeply and looked down at her stomach. "I just…I can't believe I let Ed push me to the point that I'd be willing to have an abortion. I can't believe that it was my only option before. With Ed." She shook her head. "If I'd known the kind of life I'd have when I married him, I'd have bypassed him and moved far away from Georgia." She gently strummed her fingers against the seat. "I want this baby, Daryl. I'm terrified, but I want this baby, because even though it's Ed's, it means that something good came out of the last decade of my life. Something good happened to me. It wasn't all bad." She felt Daryl give her hand a squeeze.

"Just 'cause Ed helped you make it don't mean that baby'll turn out anything like him."

"God, that's the most terrifying thing about this whole thing. You just don't know. I mean, I'm sure Ed's mother never thought, 'gee, I wonder if my baby will be an abusive, alcoholic bastard when he grows up?' No mother wants to think those things." She shook her head. "I don't know." She gently stroked her stomach, leaning her head back against the headrest. "I have no idea how I'm going to do this."

"You ain't alone," he said quietly. She gave him a small smile.

"I can't ask you to take on that responsibility."

"You ain't askin'. I'm tellin'. You ain't doin' this alone. The world we live in now? That baby's gonna need all the protection it can get."

"I don't get it," she murmured softly, a little smile crossing her face.

"What?"

"You. I mean, you just surprise me, is all."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. You just didn't strike me as the kind of guy who'd take in a pregnant woman and just take on the responsibility of helping her with it."

"Didn't?"

"Well," she shrugged, "first impressions aren't always accurate. I mean, when I met you, you were just…you were like a guardian angel, but I never thought…I was terrified that you wouldn't want me around when you knew. A baby's going to be loud. It's going to draw walkers."

"We'll figure it out," he said with a shrug. "We got plenty of time, right?"

"I guess," she said slowly. "I don't know how to do this, Daryl. I don't. This baby's going to be hunted. All it's ever going to know is how to hide, how to run, how to kill. It's the last thing I'd want for a child."

"Maybe that ain't what it'll know."

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly, her gaze drifting from his face to the open road ahead of them.

"Maybe we'll find a place. Somewhere safe. Maybe we can build a perimeter."

"Walls?"

"Maybe there's still some place out there. Maybe there are people out there…"

"Yeah," Carol conceded, "but even if they are, are they the kind of people we're going to want to meet?" The weight of her words fell between them. Their first experience with people after the turn had been less than positive. Rapists and murderers. The whole world couldn't be filled with only the bad ones, but they certainly wouldn't be welcoming strangers with open arms.

Carol yawned and blinked a few times, trying to dampen the exhaustion.

"Why don't ya take a nap? You didn't sleep very good last night." Carol couldn't help but manage a small smile at the idea that he knew if she'd slept well or not. He paid attention. He was concerned.

"You sure?"

"Baby needs the rest," he said with a shrug. Carol laid her head back against the head rest, and she stared at him for a few minutes, biting back the smile that was begging to spread over her face. Finally, she closed her eyes and let herself relax in the comfort of knowing Daryl had things under control.

Daryl cut off the engine and gently shook Carol's shoulder.

"Hey." She moaned softly in her sleep before stretching, her face scrunching up as she slowly woke. It was dark, and Carol couldn't see much of anything aside from Daryl's face, illuminated by the overhead light.

"Where are she?" she asked with a yawn.

"We're stoppin' for the night. C'mon." Carol nodded, and the two of them got out of the truck, pulling their packs out of the truck bed. The air was fresh and cool, and for a moment, Carol could almost picture things back before the turn, when the air was sweet and not filled with the stench of death.

A soft roar in the air caught Carol's attention, and she started walking out in front of the truck.

"Hey," Daryl called. "C'mon. We don't know what's out there. We'll take a look in the mornin' when it's safe."

"Is that the ocean?" Carol asked, peering into the darkness. She could barely make out the white caps of the waves lapping against the shore line.

"I never seen it before, either," he said with a shrug, getting an awed smile out of Carol. "C'mon. Let's go inside."

Carol's heart swelled as they walked up the path to the house, a house just like the one she'd described to Daryl. Somehow, all at once, he'd struck off two items from the list of things she'd always wanted to see: the ocean and a big, beautiful South Carolina home like she'd only ever seen in the movies. It was breathtaking and she felt the tears prickle at her lashes as they headed up, flashlights flooding the porch for safety as they walked. For the first time, she felt at peace, hopeful. He'd given her something tonight, and even though everything was awful and the world was a mess, she still had this faint glimmer of hope that everything was going to be ok.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Carol was the first awake the next morning. She yawned and stretched in place on the couch before sitting up, throwing the blanket off of her. Daryl was still sleeping on the floor next to the now dark hearth. The fire had died out long ago, but it was a warm morning, anyway.

She quickly toed on her shoes and pulled a jacket on over her shirt still wrinkled from sleep. She grabbed her gun off the table and stuck it in her belt before silently slipping out of the house and walking around toward the back. She gasped and stopped for a moment, taking in the sight of the bright, blue waves dragging forward and backward. Seagulls feasted on something in the shallow water, as the morning sun sparkled over the water. It was like nothing she'd ever seen.

Keeping her guard up, she walked down to the sand, and she kicked her shoes off, feeling the grains under her toes for the very first time. She wriggled her toes and dug them into the cool, damp sand, relishing the feel of it. She picked her shoes up and carried them down the damp beach and do the water's edge, where the waves came up and lapped at her ankles, cold and bracing.

She moved to sit in a dry spot in the sand, stretching her legs out so that the tide lapped against the bottoms of her feet. She smiled, feeling the warm morning sun on her face. She glanced around, looking for any sign of danger before she lay back in the sand, spreading her arms, relaxing into the soft, cool sand. She took a few deep breaths, soaking in the feel of it under her finger as she grabbed fistfuls, feeling it run out of her hands, slipping away.

"Hey." She sat up quickly to find Daryl walking down the path to the beach, his gaze moving around, checking for danger. Finally, he fixed his gaze on her. "You were gone when I woke up."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

"S'alright. Figured you'd be here."

"It's beautiful, Daryl."

"Yeah," he murmured, gaze fixing on the horizon.

"Come here. Sit with me."

"We shouldn't stay out here," he warned.

"It's ok," she urged. "There's nothing around. Not right now. Besides, we're always on the move. We should just relax for a minute." She pat the ground next to her, and he lowered himself to sit in the sand. She reached over, taking his hand in hers, and he glanced at her. She didn't look at him. She looked at the ocean, looked out at the endless horizon. "You think it's everywhere?"

"Guess so," Daryl said quietly, giving her fingers a little squeeze. "Or else the rest of the world's in on the worst fuckin' joke in history." Carol smirked at that.

"Good point." She took a deep breath. "I like it here."

"You wanna stay?"

"I don't know," she said with a shrug. "It feels better here. Don't you think?"

"Ain't gonna feel better 'til I know we're safe." Carol eyed him for a moment.

"We could put up fences. We have the ocean to our backs. We could build a perimeter."

"We could. Could take a while. And fences ain't gonna keep people out. Might keep walkers at bay for a while, but people don't care. People'll break it down, come trash the place, take what they want, who they want, and they ain't gonna give a shit. It's all about survival now." He saw Carol flinch, and then he felt like an ass. "Hey. We'll find a place. A better place. You want the ocean? We'll find a place by the ocean. Whatever you want." Carol sighed softly at that and rested her head on his shoulder. He pulled his arm around her anxiously, and when he felt her relax against him, he relaxed too.

"It would be nice," she said wistfully, "raising the baby here. Seeing her play on the beach and collecting shells. I wish I could give her that. Give her the kind of life she deserves. I just thank God she won't ever have to see the hell that would have been her life if things _hadn't_ changed." Carol shook her head. "Maybe it doesn't make any sense. This world can't be much better, but at least _he's_ not here." Daryl's hand moved to caress the small of her back, and she smiled a little. "Sophia."

"What?"

"If she's a girl, that's her name."

"Why Sophia?"

"It was my grandmother's name. She was the strongest woman I ever knew. I want that for her."

"What if it's a boy?"

"I don't know," Carol said with a little smile. "If I had to name him after the strongest man I ever knew, I'd have to name him after you." She smiled a little.

"Daryl Peletier. Don't think that goes too good, huh?"

"Not Peletier. I don't want him to be named after Ed."

"Don't have to be named after Ed. Name 'im after you. Who were you before you were Carol Peletier?"

"Before?" she asked, taking a deep breath. "Wow. I haven't thought about that girl for a long time." She shrugged her shoulders and ran her thumb over his knuckles. "Maybe we don't need last names anymore. There are so few people left in this world, what's it matter what you last name is?" Daryl chuckled at that.

"Good point. Probably ain't many Daryls left, anyway."

"I'd be proud, you know? To name him after you. I wasn't lying. You're the strongest man I've ever know."

"I ain't," he scoffed. "Just good with a gun."

"I don't mean strong in that way. You've been through a lot. I see it in your eyes. You carry it with you. The weight? Do you know what I mean?" Daryl swallowed hard but said nothing. He gave her a little nod. "You carry it with you, and you try not to let it weigh you down. I know how hard that is." She reached over and gently brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Sometimes it's so heavy you can't breathe. You can't even think a moment ahead, because the past becomes part of the now, and it paralyzes you." She trembled a little.

"Hey," he murmured, reaching up and taking her chin in his hand, turning her face toward his, "it just makes you stronger."

"Stronger," she said with a nod, blinking back tears. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers gently, tasting the salt of her tears when they began to fall. She exhaled softly against his mouth before leaning into him, deepening the kiss, claiming him as her own.

She moaned softly against his lips when his fingers threaded into her hair. His tongue slid between her lips, caressing hers, and she gasped when her back hit the sand, and he crawled over her, never breaking the kiss, moving his hand up her arm, linking his fingers with hers in the sand.

"Daryl," she whispered, her voice just a breath against his lips.

"M'sorry," he murmured, pulling back just slightly. She threaded her fingers through his hair, bringing him back down for another kiss.

"Are you? I'm not," she whispered, nuzzling his cheek with her nose. "I trust you."

"Maybe you shouldn't," he panted, resting his forehead against hers. She smiled a little, trailing her finger against his jaw.

"Maybe I shouldn't trust myself." She kissed his nose. And then he was kissing her again, his hand moving up her ribs, brushing over her breast, palming it, cupping it, giving it a squeeze before she gasped against his lips again. When he pulled back, he saw a smile creep over her face, and then he moved off of her. She sat up, and he brushed the sand off of her back, and her cheeks flushed red.

"Let's go in," he offered. He stood and held his hand out to her, and she took it. She steadied herself, placing her hands on his shoulders for a moment before leaning in to kiss him again. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her to him. The feeling of her in his arms was very new, but it was the best thing he'd ever felt in his life.

The breeze picked up, and the tide began to pull in closer. Daryl took her hand in his, and they slowly walked back to the house.

The moment they walked around the house, Carol froze, and Daryl followed her gaze to a car parked right behind their truck. A clean-cut young man stood there, one hand held up in a friendly wave, a rehearsed smile plastered to his face.

Daryl grabbed his gun, and Carol followed suit. As they aimed at their visitor, the young man's smile faltered, and he held his other hand up, as if in surrender.

"It's alright. You can put your guns away."

"Who the hell are you?" Daryl asked, teeth clenched, cocking the hammer of the gun.

"I'm a friend. You really…can put those guns away. I've been following you." It was Carol's turn to cock her gun. "No…no, it's not what you think! I'm here to help. Please. Just…just put your guns down, and we can talk."

"Ain't happenin'," Daryl called out. "Tell us who the hell you are."

"I don't see the point if you're just going to kill me. I can see I made a mistake. I'll be leaving now." He turned toward his car.

"Wait," Carol called out. "You've been following us. Why?"

"It's my job," he offered, his back to them. He lowered his hands and reached for the car door handle, opening it on its squeaky hinges.

"Where did you come from?"

"A place called Alexandria. It's about a day's drive from here. We have walls. Food. Homes. It's safe."

"How the hell you expect us to believe that?" Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes at him.

"I believe you know my partner. Come on out." The door swung open, and out popped a tall man with a buzz cut and sunglasses, clean shaven with a leather jacket and tight jeans. He turned around, a grin spreading over his face as he removed his sunglasses, eyeing the two standing before them

"Hey there, baby brother. You miss me?"

Daryl balked, shifting slightly at Carol's side. She eyed him, noticing the way his shoulders slumped, and he didn't seem to stand as tall as he had before. Daryl lowered his gun, and Carol followed suit.

"Merle?" he asked, his voice filled with part surprise, part irritation.

"You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna come over and give 'ole Merle a big hug?"


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Carol's gaze shifted between Daryl and Merle for a few moments, before the other man took a step forward.

"We were heading out to recruit other survivors when Merle caught sight of your pickup. He convinced me to follow it, and, well, here we are."

"Recruit survivors?" Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Merle's new to our community. My partner…"

"And boy does he mean partner," Merle snickered, slapping the younger man on the back. He bristled, but said nothing in response.

"My _partner_ was injured on our last recruiting trip, and Merle was sent as his replacement for the time being."

"Yeah, see, Aaron's little boyfriend got his ankle all smashed up, so I figured, hey, why don't they send a real man to get the job done, huh? What better way to prove myself, huh?" Carol's gaze went to Aaron's face. The younger man was clearly uncomfortable now, but the way his face fell told her he was used to the kind of remarks that Merle was making. All Carol knew at this moment was that Merle Dixon was nothing like his brother. She did _not_ like Merle Dixon.

"Where you been, bro?" Daryl asked, squinting into the sunlight, eyeing his brother as if he were a stranger.

"Been a little busy with a little thing called the end of the world."

"Ain't what I meant," Daryl muttered. "What about the last five years? Where you been?"

"Here and there. Prison. You know?"

"Figured," Daryl muttered. He glanced at Carol. "You should eat. Got some stuff in our packs in the house."

"I'm not going anywhere," Carol replied, crossing her arms.

"Ooh, I like her," Merle chuckled. "Got a little spitfire in her." Carol glared at him.

"Merle," Daryl warned, "back off." Merle held his hands up and moved back toward the car.

"Look," Aaron murmured, stepping forward, "you have no reason to trust me, and apparently, no reason to trust your brother, but I assure you, Alexandria is real. We have walls. We have people. Electricity, homes, even a doctor. It's a good place. It works. If you'd like to come back with us, I know our leader would be more than happy to meet you."

"Your leader?" Daryl asked, skeptically.

"Yeah. She's a good woman. Fair. She runs the place, gets things done." Daryl glanced at Carol again, and he saw the interest in her raised eyebrow. "May I ask…where are the two of you heading?" Daryl eyed the man, thinking good and hard about what to tell him? Tell him they had no idea where they were going and reveal that they had no idea where to go or what to do? Or make something up? Tell him they had a place in mind?

"Ain't you gonna invite us in, little brother?" Merle asked from by the car. Daryl glanced at Carol and then at Aaron and Merle.

"You can stay, have some breakfast."

"Then you'll come with us?" Aaron asked, hopeful.

"Ain't decided on that," Daryl muttered, turning and heading into the house, grabbing Carol's hand, much to her surprise. She followed him, giving his fingers a little squeeze.

"Hey," she whispered softly, "it's ok."

"Stick close to me," he said gruffly. Carol said nothing and walked into the house with him. Aaron and Merle followed shortly behind, and when they all stood around the kitchen table staring at one another, Carol was the first to break the silence.

"You two must be thirsty," she offered, pulling two bottles of water out of one of the packs. She handed one to Aaron.

"Thank you," he said with a polite nod. Merle tugged the bottle from her hands, and she flinched.

"You both eat and then be on your way," Daryl muttered, pulling out a bag of jerky from his pack. He grabbed a few pieces before passing it to Carol, who took her share and passed it to Aaron.

"You really should come with us," Aaron offered.

"Probably better off takin' our chances on the road." Daryl's eyes bore into Merle's before he turned and walked out the back door, letting the screen slam shut after him.

"Baby brother just can't let go," Merle murmured, his gaze on the door chain as it swung back and forth like a pendulum, ticking the time away before it came to a complete halt. Carol headed out after Daryl to find him leaning against the porch railing.

"Hey," she said gently, placing her hand on his back. "You ok?"

"Been wonderin' what happened to him. Figured he OD'd or somebody got sick of his ass and put a bullet in him." Daryl shrugged.

"What did he do to you?" she asked quietly, not certain she wanted to hear the answer but understanding that maybe all Daryl needed was a little prodding to open up about it.

"Ain't what he did," he replied, pushing off of the porch and stepping out into the grass. Carol followed, and they walked back down to the beach, letting the wind that was blowing off the current work as soundproofing. "S'what he didn't do."

"I've seen the scars, Daryl," Carol said softly, placing her hand on his arm.

"Scars are old. I was just a kid."

"You were just a kid," Carol said with a nod. "Exactly. Your parents?"

"My daddy. When he didn't have my mama to use as a punching bag, he turned to me. To Merle. But Merle was older. He got out."

"You didn't get that choice," Carol said quietly.

"I was fourteen when my daddy OD'd," he pointed out. "Merle was gone. I got put in foster homes. Some of 'em were just as bad as where I came from." He shrugged. "Merle was in and out of jail. Didn't have to go through most of what I did. He wasn't around much. He'd stop in now and again in between arrests, give me advice, and play the big brother part. Guess he thought he was doin' right by me, tryin' to teach me what he knew. I didn't wanna know what he knew."

"I'm sorry, Daryl," Carol said softly, stroking his arm. "If you say we should stay away from him, we'll stay away. I don't trust him. I don't. I don't see how someone like you could have a brother like…like that." Daryl looked away.

"If you knew my daddy, you'd see it," Daryl replied, his gaze bearing into hers.

"But, he _is_ your brother, and if you say he won't hurt you, I'll trust you with that, too."

"Merle might be a shit brother, but he never put a hand on me. Never. Not unless I swung at him first, which I did a couple times." He shook his head. "He only knows half what I went through, 'cause he went through it too. He wouldn't ..." She gently put her hands on his shoulders, resting her forehead against his.

"I hope you're right."

"They got a doctor. You're gonna need a doctor. I want you safe. The baby." Daryl ran his fingers through his hair.

"Hey," she murmured, kissing his forehead. "I go where you go. Whatever you want. Whatever you decide. I'm here." Daryl sighed softly, looking down, taking her hands in his. When he looked back up, he saw the softness in her eyes, the gentle smile that peaked in the corners of her mouth. He leaned in, pressing his lips against hers, feeling her warm breath against his own as she opened up to him.

She pulled back after a moment.

"We have to make a choice."

"Don't trust this at all."

"It's something though," she offered. "We can go…we can take a look. We've got weapons. If we have to turn around and leave, we will. If he have to fight our way out, we will. But maybe this is what we're looking for, Daryl."

"Last time we ran into people, they almost…"

"I know," she said quietly. "I'm terrified." She brushed her finger over his jaw. "But they can't all be bad, right? I have to believe that." Daryl nodded slowly.

"Ain't gonna let you outta my sight."

"Ditto," she said with a little smile. Daryl chuckled, leaning in to kiss her again.

"You're with me."

"I am," she said with a nod. "I'm not going anywhere without you." She chewed her lip, those three words coming precariously close to spilling out, but he dropped his head, meeting her lips again with his own.

"Merle's gonna try and get to me. He's gonna try to get to you. He's rough. He's…"

"I've dealt with my share of rough men," Carol countered, glancing back at the house. "If I can handle Ed, I can handle anything."

"How the hell does a man like my brother end up going out to recruit people? He ain't exactly a people person," Daryl muttered as he steered the pickup down the freeway. Aaron had chosen to ride with Carol and Daryl for a while as a way of feeling them out, getting to know them a little. He was personable, and Daryl didn't have anything against the guy. It was just that he was a stranger, he was traveling with Merle, and he had all of these promises of a safe place with walls and a touch of what the world used to be like before everything went tits up.

Merle tagged along in the car behind them.

"Turn left here," Aaron instructed. Daryl did as Aaron said. "We found Merle in the middle of a herd of roamers."

"Roamers? That what you call 'em?"

"They were about to kill him, and Eric actually distracted them so that I could help your brother. It's how he got hurt. He wasn't bitten, thank God, but I'm not taking him out here again. He's put his life on the line too many times."

"That's understandable," Carol mused, a little smile playing on her lips. "But you took Merle?"

"It was our leader's idea. The others aren't exactly keen on him yet."

"Wait'll they meet us. M'sure they'll be standin' in line with the casseroles and housewarmin' gifts," Daryl smirked.

"You're nothing like you're brother," Aaron assured him with a light-hearted laugh. "Merle's rough around the edges, but he didn't deserve to be torn apart. He said he'd been wandering around D.C. when it happened, and he was holed up in a house for a while until he ran out of supplies and needed to move on."

"Sounds like Merle."

"I'm not exactly a psychologist," Aaron said quietly, "but the second we spotted your truck, the second we were sure that you were the one driving, Merle was dead set on getting to you. He might be rough, but he cares about you." Daryl snorted at that. Aaron turned his attention to Carol.

"How far along are you?"

"You can tell?" Carol asked, looking down at herself, finding that her jacket was still zipped.

"I saw you tuck the bottle of prenatal vitamins into your bag."

"You're very observant, Aaron," Carol said with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm not the one that requested the pat down before getting into the truck with strangers. You both have some trust issues. I get it."

"No. You don't," Daryl spat. "Unless you been through the shit we been through these past few weeks, you ain't ever gonna get it." Daryl hit the brakes, sending the truck screeching to a halt. Merle quickly hit the brakes behind them, and a string of curses could be heard from the car.

"What happens when we get to Alexandria?" Daryl asked. "Huh? You take our weapons?"

"That's generally what happens," Aaron said quickly. "We have children there. We have lookouts on the walls regularly, and nothing gets in our out without our knowing about it."

"What if we wanna keep out weapons?" Carol asked. "What if we'd feel safer knowing they were there?"

"Like I said…I get the trust issues. I do. But we're a good community. We're just trying to survive, and the two of you have clearly been through a lot. Look, it's going to be a tough winter. The last thing a pregnant woman needs is to be out on the road, scrapping for food and struggling to find a place to stay warm for the night. We have heated homes. We have food. We have medical care. It's a good place, and even if you can't trust us now, you could learn to."

"Why us?" Daryl wondered, eyeing the younger man.

"Why not? You survived this long. You'd be a good asset to our community. Both of you."

"What's the hold up?!" Merle called from the car behind them. Daryl glared at his brother in the rear view mirror before letting his foot off the brake and continuing on.

"Ain't makin' any promises. We get there, we don't like it? We leave."

"Nobody's going to make you stay against your will." Daryl glanced over at Carol, who gave him a reassuring nod. He felt like his heart was in a vice. He didn't trust Merle. He didn't trust this guy. He trusted Carol, and she was trusting in him. The last thing he wanted to do was drag her into the middle of something that could get her hurt. After what happened with the looters at the cabin, he didn't want to take any chances. But Carol was going to need a safe place to have the baby, and maybe this was it. Maybe he was just too blinded by the harsh reality of the world they lived in to see that not everybody was bad. Maybe he was just going to have to take a chance to save their lives.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

It took about seven hours to get to Alexandria. Detours and washed out roads had been a major factor in the delay, but when they finally pulled up outside the gates, the first thing Daryl saw was a lookout on either side of the large gate, armed with automatic rifles and ammo. The sight of a church steeple rising high into the treetops was a stark contrast to the militant look of the armed guards.

One of the guards, a woman, smiled brightly and waved. Aaron chuckled and waved back.

"That's Sasha. She's one of our best shots. We get stragglers now and again, and she takes them out. She lost her brother just outside the gates. She spends a lot of time in that watch tower, making sure the same thing doesn't happen to someone else." Daryl shot Carol a glance, and she swallowed hard, peering out at the big, rusted gate as it slid open. A tall, thin black woman came walking out. She was young with dark eyes and a serious expression. "Come on. Come meet everyone." Aaron motioned for Daryl to get out of the truck, which he didn't. Carol, instead, opened her door and slid out, letting Aaron out after her.

"Come on," Carol urged. "Let's just go say hello." Daryl could see the worry in her eyes, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she was just trying to keep it together and not let her anxieties take over.

With Carol's encouragement, Daryl got out of the truck, and Merle drove around them, pulling the car through the gate as if he'd done it a hundred times before. Merle was comfortable. Merle was home.

"Welcome to Alexandria," the woman murmured, stepping through the gates and greeting them. Aaron looked anxiously over her shoulder.

"How's Eric?"

"He's off the crutches."

"Thank God," Aaron murmured, relief washing over his face. "He hates those things." The woman cracked a smile at him.

"Welcome home, Aaron." She glanced over her shoulder. "And Merle's back." She seemed a little disappointed. "You'll be back on the construction crew starting tomorrow. I found a permanent replacement for Eric on the recruiting trips. Somebody a little more…personable." She turned away from him.

"Now don't you go throwin' a party all at once, sugar tits," Merle smirked as he got out of the car and came back out of the gate. Daryl watched the way the woman leered at Merle with as much disgust as she might eye a piece of road kill. "This here's the boss lady, baby brother. Yeah, and she sure likes bossin' around 'ole Merle. Must feel good bein' the one in control."

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl barked, knowing he didn't owe this woman a damned thing, but feeling that bile rise up in the back of his throat as Merle dug in with his usual antics. Merle eyed him for a moment before snorting and shaking his head, walking off.

"Baby brother? Well, I must say it's a relief to see you're nothing like your older brother. Merle's not the one I worry about. At least he wears his bigotry on the outside. It's the ones that hide it that I worry about. I'm Michonne. Welcome to Alexandria."

The streets were clean, save for the leaves that had started falling off of the trees. A beautiful swirl of orange and red and yellow kicked through the air when the breeze picked up. Michonne, the leader, carried a samurai sword on her back.

The houses were huge, and Aaron had briefly explained on the ride that it was a housing development for rich people. Multi-million dollar homes had been created with solar paneling and other luxuries which made it pretty easy to run when the right people were brought into the walls. They had architects and scientists that had secured the place and made it functional, and Carol gasped when she saw lawn sprinklers watering the lawns and heard music playing from one of the houses. She'd never thought she'd hear music again, and it was a little overwhelming.

"How'd you find this place?" Carol asked, taking in the sights of children playing in the yards and dogs being walked by their owners.

"By accident," Michonne said with a little smile. "I was actually part of the crew that was putting this place together when everything…happened. A lot of the people here were part of the team. We've brought in survivors, we've made a community. It hasn't been easy, and we've lost people, but for the most part, we've kept each other safe."

"So how does Merle fit in to all of this?" Daryl asked.

"He doesn't, really," Michonne said quietly. "We go by the chance system around here. You screw up, you get a second chance. Even a third. After that, you're out. Merle's on his last chance here."

"You ask me, you ought to throw him out."

"You'd say that about your own brother?" Michonne asked, raising her brows in surprise.

"You don't know my brother," Daryl remarked. "Hell, you don't know me. I don't know you."

"Which is why we have chances," Michonne pointed out. "The world changed. But people don't have to. You can learn to live with people again. Work with them. But if you can't play nice, if you can't live according to our rules, then you move on. Merle hasn't quite figured that out yet." Michonne turned to Carol. "Aaron tells me you're pregnant." Carol said nothing. Her gaze shifted to Daryl.

"I was too, when it happened. We have a great doctor here. His name's Pete, and he delivered my Andre."

"You have a baby?" Carol asked, eyes wide.

"Andre Anthony," Michonne said proudly, a smile pulling across her face. "This wasn't exactly how I expected to raise my kid, but it's happening, and he's safe. He's five weeks old now." Carol felt her pulse slow a little. "It was a difficult delivery. I almost lost him. But Pete's done some incredible things. He's a good doctor. I'll introduce you if you decide to stay."

"We have a choice?"

"Of course you have a choice," Michonne murmured. "Nobody's ever decided not to stay, but there's a first time for everything. It's safe here. We organize supply runs every week. We have whole garages stocked with food, ammo, supplies. We're doing ok. Winter's coming, and I think it's going to be our biggest challenge, but we're preparing ourselves."

"What about our weapons? You ain't asked for 'em yet."

"You haven't made a choice yet," Michonne replied. "You make a choice, then we'll talk weapons. There are children here, and I take every precaution to ensure their safety. The safety of the group. It's worked out so far. Our watchmen check out weapons every morning for their turn on guard duty, and they turn them back in when their shift is over. It's easier that way. Less complicated. Less messy. Our constable carries a gun."

"What about that sword on your back?"

"Decoration," Michonne shrugged. "I go out sometimes. Outside the gates. I don't like guns. This is my protection."

"And you ain't gotta turn it in, 'cause you're the one in charge," Daryl pointed out. "Figures."

"I just came back in. Hadn't gotten around to turning it in yet," Michonne pointed out. "You have trust issues. I get that. You've been out there." She stepped closer to him. "I'm a mother. I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect my son. If you think letting other survivors in is easy for me, then you've got another thing coming. But the truth is, we need people. We need to survive. We have a system. We have someone to keep the peace. He was a sheriff before the turn. He does a good job."

"Who's the sheriff or constable, or whatever the hell you call 'im?" Daryl asked, eyeing her curiously.

"You'll meet him. He's a good man. Fair."

"Yeah," Daryl murmured. "We'll see."

"I don't know 'bout this place," Daryl said quietly as they sat together on the porch steps of Michonne's house.

"Me neither," Carol said quietly. "But Michonne seems…nice. Fair." Though she wouldn't say it aloud, she was a bit relieved that the leader of Alexandria was a woman. A mother.

"You wanna stay?"

"I don't want to stay if you don't." She saw the look in his eyes. "I'm not saying that to guilt you into staying. I'm staying it because it's true. You're the only person I've been able to trust since…and I just…I don't want you to be unhappy." Daryl reached over, taking her hand in his.

"Ain't goin' nowhere. We'll stay."

"You're sure?"

"You're here, ain't you?"

"I am."

"Then I'm sure." Carol smiled a little, giving his hand a squeeze.

"I swear, if you wake up one day and can't stand to be here another minute, we'll pack up and leave, Daryl. Just let me know. Please. Can you promise me that?" Daryl just gave her a brief nod before he leaned in and brushed his lips over hers.

"Promise. C'mon. Let's go tell the boss lady we're stayin'."


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Of the many homes that were still empty in Alexandria, the very last house at the end of the main road was the one that caught Carol's eye. She had never pictured herself in a huge home, but given the fact that of the homes in Alexandria had been built for rich people with extravagant tastes, there wasn't a small house to be seen.

The home that caught Carol's eye was painted a light grey with white shutters. It had a wraparound porch and a porch swing, one she could actually imagine herself rocking the baby to sleep in on warm summer nights. It had a fenced in yard and a gate heading the sidewalk which somehow made her feel safe.

There was no question that they would share it. Michonne had handed them the keys the moment Carol's mouth twitched up in a smile and she took in that deep breath at the sight of it. This was home, but it wouldn't be home unless Daryl was there, too.

"There are clothes put out on the dining room table. Maybe not your exact tastes, but we have supply runs every week, and you're more than welcome to make suggestions to the supply crew. There is soap and shampoo in the bathroom upstairs. I'll have Jessie bring you both a box of other supplies. She's the doctor's wife. Very nice lady. She has a couple of boys who'll probably be hopping your fences and getting into trouble. They're very nice boys, but they're rowdy and curious."

"Thanks for the warnin'," Daryl muttered.

"You can hold onto your weapons tonight. If you leave the house, don't bring them with you. Like I said, we have children here. When morning comes, if you've decided to stay, I will ask you to turn in your weapons. I'll have someone bring your truck up to the house. Nobody will touch your belongings."

"Thank you," Carol said with a genuine smile and a nod, stepping forward. "We appreciate the hospitality." Michonne nodded in return.

"I have to get home to my son. We're happy to have you both here, and once you're settled, we'll go over jobs."

"Jobs?" Carol asked.

"Everybody has something to do. We all pitch in here. Nobody slacks, nobody works more than his or her share."

"Great," Daryl murmured. "Thanks." Michonne nodded and ducked out the door, heading off toward her home.

"This is crazy," Carol murmured, standing in the middle of the large living room. The home was immaculate, as if people came in regularly just to dust and tidy up. It was like something she'd never dreamed of having. The one-bedroom house she'd shared with Ed had been ridiculously cramped, and she felt a little overwhelmed at the prospect of having such a huge house to share with Daryl.

Out of habit, Daryl moved to lock the front door, the loud click of the lock echoing off the bare walls. Carol eyed him for a moment, taking a deep breath as they stood together in their new home.

"Well," she said softly, swallowing hard, "here we are."

"Yeah," he said with a nod, shifting awkwardly. "What now?"

"I don't know about you," she murmured, "but I want a hot shower and a nap." Daryl nodded.

"Sounds good to me," Daryl said with a nod, eyeing her. Carol put her pack down on the floor, and he tossed his down with hers. They made their way into the dining room where, just as Michonne had said, there were clothes put out for them. Carol gently ran her fingers over a pretty blue cotton blouse. She smiled a little, looking up at him.

"What is it?"

"Ed never let me wear nice things like this." She saw him swallow the lump in his throat, and she looked away. She picked up the blouse and a pair of fresh cotton panties. Under those was a pair of khaki pants that would look nice with the top.

Daryl eyed his choices. He had a button down blue shirt or a black t-shirt to choose from, and he made a face. Carol giggled a little and put her hand on the blue button down.

"I like this."

"It ain't me."

"I know," she said quietly, "but you can make it yours." She chewed her lip. She knew Daryl wasn't a sleeves kind of guy, so she picked up a pair of scissors off the table and handed them to him. "Use your imagination." Daryl chuckled at that and went to work cutting the sleeves off, ruining a perfectly good piece of clothing, but Carol didn't mind, so long as it made him happy.

"Guess we better pick out our room," Daryl suggested as they made their way to the stairs. Carol froze. "Rooms, I mean. Didn't want ya to think…"

"It's ok," she said with a playful smile, feeling a sense of security and love wash over her. She didn't have to be afraid. Not with him. She knew that.

When they reached the top of the stairs, the first room off the landing was the master bedroom. It was large, and there was plenty of room for more furniture.

"You can have this one. Room for a baby crib and all that. Figure you'll want the baby with you for a while."

"Yeah," she said with a little smile, appreciating the way he thought and how he seemed sensitive to what she might need or desire. "Thank you." He just nodded. They moved down the hall to check out the next room, which happened to be another bedroom.

"I'll take this one. Stay close, you know?" She bit her lip, nodding as a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Carol moved down the hall to the bathroom, a large one with not only a large bath tub, but a full shower as well. She sighed and leaned against the door frame as Daryl came up behind her.

"I think this is my dream bathroom," she confessed.

"You wanna go first?" he asked.

"You can. You're dirtier than I am," she teased. Daryl eyed her.

"Hey, I ain't that dirty." She raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Their eyes locked on each other for a moment. He leaned down and pressed a tentative kiss to her lips, and she sighed softly against his mouth, opening up to him. She ran her hands up his arms and shoulders, and he groaned as her tongue slid across his lips.

He pressed her back against the doorframe, and she yelped as the corner dug into her shoulder. He pulled back quickly.

"M'sorry."

"Hey," she whispered. "Don't." She stood on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. "Don't be sorry."

"I ain't gonna rush you."

"I know."

"You ain't ready."

"I'm trying to be," she promised. "I just need a little time. But…" To Daryl's surprise, Carol was tugging him by the vest into the bathroom and shutting the door.

"What're you doin'?"

"Getting comfortable. Getting ready," she said quietly, not taking her eyes off of him as she slid her hands up under his shirt, her fingers ghosting over his abs. He put his hands on her wrists.

"Hey, you don't gotta do this."

"I know. I want to," she said quietly. "I can't be afraid forever. I just need to…ease into it." Daryl nodded slowly, his mouth going dry as he watched her toe off her shoes and slip her belt out of the loops. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex. Clearly, it hadn't been that memorable. He wasn't the kind of guy who connected with others, and most of his sexual experiences had been chalked up to clumsy fumblings in the back of a pickup or at her house, because there'd been no way he'd have taken a woman back to his house, back to his private place that was only his. He'd never let anyone in enough for that.

But Carol was different. She was everything he'd been terrified of before. She was sweet, she was loving, she wanted to know him. She wasn't afraid of who he was, she didn't shy away from his past, because her past was just as marred with scars as his was. They both had baggage, and somehow, it brought them closer.

And he was terrified now, because the last thing he wanted to do was scare her off. She was all he had, and he loved her. Yes, he loved her, but the words wouldn't come. He supposed it was just another piece of baggage he had to lug around until he felt comfortable enough to let go.

He moved to take off his vest, hanging it on the back of the bathroom door. He slid his shirt up over his arms and shoulders, tossing it into the pile where Carol had discarded her belt and shoes. Her gaze drifted from his face to his chest, and she reached out, placing her hand against his shoulder. She sighed softly as he brought her into his arms, and she kissed his shoulder and neck, running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.

His hands were on her back now, gently gathering the fabric of her shirt between his fingers, bunching it up as he pulled her closer. She moaned softly as his fingers stroked over her bare back as he raised the shirt up over her head. She moved her arms to help him work, and she shivered a little, standing there in her bra, and a little smile tugged at his lips.

"This ok?" he asked, as he tossed her shirt away and fan his fingers gently over her side and toward the swell of her belly. She nodded, looking down to see where his fingers splayed over the stretch of her skin on her stomach. She placed her hand over his, biting her lip to contain the urge to cry as he stroked her there.

"It's ok," she whispered, curling her fingers around his. She stood on her tiptoes again, reaching up with her free hand to brush the hair out of his eyes before she pressed her lips against his. He kissed her back, slowly and tenderly, enjoying every moment, savoring the taste of her mouth and the feel of her tongue against his. He groaned, feeling his body react to her closeness, and he backed up a little not wanting to scare her.

Her eyes fluttered open when the kiss broke, and her gaze dragged down his bare torso and to the front of his jeans where his desire was more than evident. She backed up, moving her hands behind her back to tug at the clasp of her bra. His gaze fixed on hers before faltering, moving down to her chest as she worked.

"Hey, baby brother!" A bang on the door downstairs startled them both, and Carol yelped softly, her hands moving back around leaving her bra intact, her eyes widening at the surprise.

"God damn it," Daryl muttered. "I'm sorry." She smiled sweetly at him and nodded her head.

"It's ok. Go. I'll finish up here, and then you can shower after me. Ok?"

"Ok." He couldn't hide his disappointment, so Carol smiled and stepped forward, pressing her lips against his.

"It's ok. We've got plenty of time, right?" He nodded, still terribly disappointed, but he'd have to wait. Leave it to Merle to fuck everything up once again.

"Right," he murmured, turning to walk out of the bathroom, leaving her to her shower. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes, willing his cock to get itself under control. He took a few deep breaths before he started to relax, and then Merle banged on the door again.

"Fuck," he muttered. He tore himself away from the wall and headed down the stairs, part of him hoping Merle would be in a provoking kind of mood so he could have no qualms about knocking his big brother right on his ass.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

"What do you want?" Daryl growled, pulling his shirt on, opening up the door and pushing the screen door open.

"Whoa, slow down there, Darylena."

"What the hell do you want?" Daryl asked, letting the screen door slam shut. "Why are you here?"

"Brought your truck back. So, the little woman's knocked up, huh? I'm gonna be an uncle?"

"None of your damned business, Merle," Daryl muttered, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and lighting one up.

"Look," Merle chuckled, "you got a lot of anger you're holdin' onto. You wanna hit me? Just hit me. Do whatever you gotta do, if it'll make you feel better." Daryl scoffed and took a long drag on his cigarette.

"You can't do this, Merle," Daryl muttered, shaking his head. "You can't come around. I don't want you here."

"Oh, I get it. You got yourself a woman and a baby on the way, and suddenly you're too good for Merle, huh? Just you remember somethin', baby brother." He poked Daryl in the chest. "I'm the one kept you from gettin' your ass kicked in school. I'm the one beat the shit out of those little pricks that wanted to beat on you on the playground. Look, I'm sorry I wasn't around as much as I shoulda been."

"No." Daryl shook his head. "You stayin' away was probably the best thing you ever coulda done for me. If you'd stuck around, I'd probably be like you. I'm gonna do better for my family. What've you got? You got one more chance in this place, and then you're out?" He saw the smile spread over Merle's face.

"They ain't gonna turn me loose," he chuckled. "They know if they did, I'd just come back and tear the walls down myself. I been here long enough. I know the ins and outs of this place. They're gonna have to kill me and throw me over the gate first."

"What do you want?"

"Why don't you tell me what _you_ want? You're the one bitchin' 'cause I haven't been around. Then you say it's better I weren't, 'cause you turned out better than you woulda. Make up your mind, little brother." Daryl shook his head and flicked his cigarette over the porch railing.

"Man, just go away. I don't want you here."

"Then why'd you come with us? You coulda just walked away at the beach house."

"'Cause she's havin' a baby. Just 'cause I came here don't mean I wanna have some big family reunion. I'm here 'cause it's where _she _needs to be."

"I'll be damned," Merle snorted. "You done grown up." He nodded his head. "Mama'd be proud of you."

"Don't talk about her," Daryl snapped. "Just go."

"Alright. Alright. I'm goin'. But I ain't leavin' for good. Just remember that." Merle turned and headed down the porch steps and out the front gate. Daryl watched him leave and made sure he was really gone before he turned and headed back inside.

He locked the door behind himself and leaned against it, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. He could hear the shower running upstairs, and he thought strongly about going up and continuing where they'd left off. But he didn't want her to see him like this. Angry. Upset.

He knew Merle had had a rough time of it, just like he had, but the idea of having Merle around Carol, influencing her life in any way, well, it terrified him. Merle was a part of everything in his past he wished he could just forget. Hell, Merle probably wanted to forget it, too. But Merle was Merle, and when he set his mind to something, such as in this case, keeping an eye on his little brother, nobody but nobody kept him from it.

"Daryl?" Her voice echoed down the stairs, and he sighed, heading up to see what it was she needed. When he got up there, she was standing in the bathroom doorway wrapped in a towel, clouds of steam rolling out behind her, her auburn hair slick against her head.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she said softly. "Everything ok?"

"Yeah. I told him to leave." She gave a little nod.

"What did he want?"

"Just…who knows? It's Merle. Merle only cares 'bout himself. It don't matter." Carol cocked her head to the side, deciding not to press the issue.

"The shower's free. I'm going to go lay down. Take a nap." He nodded.

"A'right. Good idea. Get some rest."

"You can come join me when you're done, if you want." She reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. He looked down, and she moved her hand up to his cheek to turn his face toward hers. "Hey. The past is the past, remember? Don't let him get to you." Daryl just nodded, and she leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Go on. I'll be waiting." She brushed past him and slipped away to gather her fresh clothes. Daryl stood there for a moment, feeling his pulse pounding beneath his chest.

He still couldn't quite grasp how someone as wonderful and sweet as Carol could care a thing for him. And, deep down, he knew that Merle was probably thinking the same thing, only he wouldn't be too afraid to voice it.

The last thing he wanted was to lose her, and if holding onto her meant cutting Merle out of his life for good, he'd do it, because Carol was his family now. Merle was just a distant reminder of everything that was wrong with the world even before it went to shit.

When Daryl finished toweling himself off, he pulled on a fresh pair of boxers. He hadn't worn boxers in so long, he'd almost forgotten what they felt like. He pulled on a pair of jeans that were a little too big for him and hung off of his hips, exposing the V line of his torso. He ran the towel through his hair before tossing on the blue shirt he'd cut the arms off of. He buttoned it up and wiped the fog off of the mirror. He looked like himself, but he didn't. His hair was longer, his stubble had far more grey in it than he'd expected.

The fact that there was a blow dryer sitting by the sink just seemed laughable. Just yesterday, they were trying to figure out where they were going to live and what they were going to eat next, and here they were now with electricity and running water, fresh clothes and food.

He sighed and shook his head, running a comb through his locks before toweling them off again. When he was drip-free, he padded down the hall to Carol's room, knocking quietly and receiving no response. He stood there with his hand on the doorknob, trying to decide what he should do, if he should go in. Finally, he overpowered the coiling nerves in his stomach and stepped in, where he spotted her lying curled up on her side on her bed.

He let the door swing open and walked barefoot across the room, trying to decide what he should do, if he should wake her. Finally, he sat on the bed and pulled himself up to lay next to her. She moaned softly and looked over her shoulder, yawning and never opening her eyes.

"You smell good," she said with a sleepy smile, turning her face back toward the wall. She reached around for his hand. "Come here." He rolled to curl up behind her, and she wrapped his arm around her waist. He splayed his fingers across her stomach as she leaned back against him. He realized, suddenly, that he was spooning a woman for the first time in his life. This was new. Different. He liked it.

"So do you," he chuckled, nuzzling the back of her neck, pressing a soft kiss there. She moaned softly, shrugging her shoulders at the ticklish sensation. "Get any sleep?"

"Not yet. Trying." He gently rubbed circles against her stomach, burying his face against the back of her neck. It wasn't long before she was fast asleep in his arms, and when he let himself relax enough to fall asleep, he let himself be pulled under, too, and he slept better than he had in a very long time.


	20. Chapter 20

_Thanks to those who are still reading. Hope this chapter has been worth the wait. Thanks so much!_

Chapter 20

Carol was the first to wake. A nap had turned into a full-blown nine-hour sleep. It was still dark out, but Carol was warm. Really warm. Daryl was snuggled up behind her, spooned against her, his hand still placed protectively over her stomach. She smiled a little, yawning and stretching just enough that she could turn and face him.

She could barely make out his face in the darkness, but his slow, even breaths told her he was sound asleep. Biting her lip, she tenderly traced her finger down his jaw, feeling the scratchy stubble against the pad of her finger.

She hadn't felt like this in a long time. Sleeping with Ed never felt much like sleep at all. When she did sleep, she'd forget for a little while exactly who she was married to. When she woke, she would do everything she could to lie very still until she felt she could safely slip out of bed without waking him. Sleeping next to him was like sleeping next to a lit stick of dynamite. She'd woken once in the night to him hitting her hard across the chest because she'd had a cold and was snoring too loud. He'd knocked the wind right out of her.

This was different. Daryl was peaceful in the respect that he wouldn't blow up at her. He had a rough side, but nothing violent. Nothing fearsome. She felt safe with him, and it was something she was trying to let herself get used to. When she lay with him, she wanted to be there. She didn't want to slip out of bed. She didn't want to go somewhere else. She wanted his arms around her. She wanted that feeling of security that he gave her just by being near. He was her shelter.

He'd been so patient with her, letting her stop when she needed to, letting her be vulnerable, letting her heal. She'd fallen for him. At some point, she wasn't sure when, she'd fallen in love with Daryl Dixon, and every time she looked at him, every time he smiled at her, she got the sensation inside like the floor was dropping out from under her. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. She needed him. She craved him. Daryl was no Ed. That was quite possibly the very best quality about him. He was rough around the edges, but he was a good man. He'd never hurt her. He'd been through enough in his life that abusing someone else wasn't in the cards.

"I love you," she whispered softly, curling her fingers into his shirt. "It scares me how much I love you." She swallowed hard, bringing her lips to his, kissing him tenderly, feeling his warm breath against her mouth before his lips twitched, and he slowly responded to the kiss.

He moaned softly, stirring from his sleep, and he gasped softly against her mouth, as her hand moved up to his neck and then into his hair.

"Carol?" he asked sleepily.

"Shh," she breathed. "It's ok." She kissed him again, running her bare foot slowly up and down his leg. She felt his arms snake around her, pulling her close, and he opened his mouth to her, stroking her tongue with his own. She whimpered softly against his kiss, and he pulled back slowly.

"You ok?"

"Yeah," she whispered, resting her forehead against his. "I want this. I do. I'm ready."

"You sure? We don't have to do anything you ain't ready for."

"I'm sure," she breathed. "Please. Please." Her hands threaded through his hair, and she kissed him again, a little harder this time, a little more insistently. He pulled back a little, softening the kiss, letting her know he was there, but he wasn't going to push.

"Alright," he murmured, kissing her again. "C'mere." He pulled her in close, his hand slipping up the back of her shirt, feeling for a bra clasp that wasn't there. He moaned softly, moving one hand up the front of her shirt, caressing her stomach first before brushing over her breast, feeling the hardened peak of her nipple under his palm. She arched into his touch, nipping at his lower lip as he tugged her shirt up over her head.

Her hands worked at the buttons on his shirt, pushing it open and down off of his arms. His mouth was on her neck, suckling there as her hand moved down his bare stomach and over the bulge in his jeans. He moaned, bringing his hand to her wrist.

"Sorry," she whispered against his mouth.

"S'alright. Just…won't last long like that." She nodded, kissing him again, and he helped her out of her pants, sliding them down her legs before tossing them off the bed. He rid himself of his own before he crawled over her, pressing against her, his dick hard and straining against his boxers. He settled against her, hips against hips, his erection pressing into her. She bucked her hips slightly, grinding against him. He buried his face against her breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth before teasing the other the same way.

"Daryl," she murmured. "Oh…" His hand moved between her thighs, feeling the heat through her panties, giving her a gentle rub that elicited a whimper from the back of her throat.

"S'alright," he whispered, trailing his tongue down her neck. "Just relax."

"I'm a little nervous," she panted.

"Me too. We'll go slow." She nodded as he caught her soft cries in his mouth, kissing her as he pushed her panties aside, slipping a finger inside of her. She was soaking wet, and the feel of her, slick and hot around his finger was almost too much.

"Daryl!" she cried out, hand bunching in his hair as this thumb drew circles around her clit. "Oh God. Please. Please, just…" She bit out her cries against his shoulder as he easily pushed her over her threshold. She clutched him, her body trembling against his as she fought for control of her breath and her heartbeat.

He was amazed at how quickly she'd come, but he wouldn't complain. As much as he wanted her, he wanted it to be as good as possible for her, because he was terrified he wouldn't last long.

"You ok?" he asked as her body stopped shaking.

"Mmm," she moaned, nodding against his neck. "I need you." He kissed her again, his tongue sliding against her lips as he used one hand to pull her panties down her legs. She managed to shimmy out of them, and he pulled his boxers down far enough that he could grab hold of his dick before he pushed against her, feeling her stretch as he slowly slid home. She gasped, whimpering against his neck, and he held her close, panting and gritting his teeth, praying he could hold on for her.

"Shh," he murmured. "S'alright. Just relax, sweetheart. I'm here." She nodded, moving her hands down his back. He pushed further into her, biting back a groan of pleasure as her walls fit perfectly around him. It was like she was made for him, and as the thought crossed his mind, he nearly lost control. He gripped the pillow under Carol's head, resting his head against her breasts for a brief moment. She soothed him, running a hand down his neck and over his shoulders.

Her knees trembled as she pulled them back, taking him the rest of the way in. The ache was nothing compared to the sensation of him filling her, of him finally making love to her. She'd been terrified of this moment, terrified of what it meant for them. But as she felt his lips against her breast, felt the gentle way he eased into her, she wondered what she'd been so scared of. This was heaven.

His stomach grazed over hers as he began to move, slowly, torturously, drawing out of her and pushing back in, their hips rolling together, legs tangling, fingers slipping together with sweat.

It didn't last long. Not nearly long enough for either of them. But she stroked his back when he slumped on top of her. He immediately adjusted his weight so he wouldn't crush her. And he rolled to his side, his arm flopped over her chest, his fingers gently gripping and stroking her arm as his hair lay plastered against his face. He couldn't see her face in the dark, and she couldn't see his, but she turned to face him, leaning in, seeking his mouth with her own.

"Sorry," he breathed against her lips as she stroked his cheek.

"I'm not," she murmured. "That was beautiful. That was…"

"Shoulda held on longer for you. Shoulda made it better for you."

"Daryl," she offered, scooting in to curl up against him, resting her head on his chest, "I've never had better than this." She kissed his jaw, and he tightened his hold around her as they lay together, breaths coming out in short huffs for a few minutes, before they both began to calm and let sleep take hold of them once again.

Daryl blinked into the morning light as he woke with the sudden urge to take a piss. He didn't want to move. Didn't want to wake her. He turned to face her, seeing her sprawled out on her back, sheet barely covering her legs. She was naked, vulnerable, beautiful. He let his gaze trace over the small curves of her breasts leading up to where her nipples were hard peaks from the cool morning air. His gaze wandered down the small swell of her stomach and to the soft patch of curls between her legs. She was gorgeous, and he only wished he'd been able to fully appreciate her beauty when they'd made love. The dark had probably made it easier for her for their first time, but God, he couldn't wait to make love to her and see her face and look into her eyes as she came. He couldn't wait to see the way the sweat glistened off of her body when he thrust into her.

The idea of it all had his body responding, and he groaned, pulling himself up and out of bed.

The creak and shift of the bed woke her, and she rolled to her side, quickly puling the sheet over herself. She blushed at the sight of Daryl's bare ass as he walked to the door.

"Sneaking off already?" she teased. He turned, startled at the sound of her voice. Her gaze drifted down his chest and stomach and toward his already erect penis as he turned toward her. She bit her lip and felt the heat pool between her legs again.

"Gotta take a piss," he muttered. "I'll be back."

"Ok," she said with a little grin, knowing he'd be gone for a while, because there was definitely something else he was going to have to take care of before he got to relieve himself. So, she pulled herself out of the bed, moving across the room to the mirror over the dresser drawers. She flinched a little at the sight of her naked body, turning to the side, admiring the swell of her stomach, which she figured would grow tenfold over the next few months. She ran her hands gently over her breasts and over her hips. She bit her lip, admiring the way her blue eyes seemed to sparkle. She felt happy. Completely happy.

She contemplated putting her clothes back on, but a part of her knew she had to get comfortably being with him like this. They'd already gone as far as two people could, so what was the use in being shy now?

Her heart fluttered in her chest when she heard the toilet flush. She scurried back over to the bed and got under the sheet, pulling it up over her, covering herself from toe to breasts. When Daryl came walking back in the room, his face was a little flushed, and he was clearly relieved in more ways than one. She smiled a little, blushing as he walked toward the bed, not even attempting to cover himself.

He flopped down on her bed, rolling onto his side, kissing her lips gently. She giggled when she tasted something minty fresh on his breath.

"Did you brush your teeth?" she asked. Daryl nodded.

"There was a package on the porch. Musta been the supplies Michonne promised us." He shrugged.

"You went out there? Naked?"

"Nah," he snorted. "There was a towel."

"Oh, clever." She took a shaky breath as he leaned in to kiss her again. "Good morning."

"Mornin'," he chuckled, pulling back a little.

"I feel a little guilty," she confessed. He would have worried had she not been smiling brighter than he'd ever seen her smile before.

"Why's that?"

"Michonne was nice enough to put us up here, and she wants our decision today. She wants to know if we're staying, and she wants to give us jobs and let us pull our weight."

"Why's that make you feel guilty?"

"Because all I want to do is stay right here all day. With you." He couldn't suppress the smile the spread over his face, and he leaned in, kissing her again, this time a little more slowly, a little more passionately, and before long, he was sprawled over her on the bed, and their limbs were tangled as they simply kissed and touched one another, exploring one another in the light of day.

Finally, Carol placed her hand against his chest, and he broke the kiss, both of them staring at one another, lips pink and slightly swollen.

"I made a choice," she said quietly. "I want to stay. And I want you to want to stay. It'll be different, but for now? I think we're safe here."

"You alright with havin' my brother around?"

"He's a jackass, but I don't think he's a threat. I just…for the first time in a long time, I didn't have to worry about what time I woke, if there'd be walkers waiting when we walked out the door."

"This place seems too good to be true," Daryl admitted aloud. "Seems like any second these walls could come crumblin' down, 'specially if a group comes along like we ran into at the cabin. The walls are safe from walkers, but what about people? What about people who find out what they got here and wanna take it?"

"If it happens," Carol mused, leaning back against the pillow, "we'll take it back." She ran her hand over his muscular arm and shoulder. "We'll do what we have to. It's what we've done so far, right?" Daryl nodded slowly. "This could be good. If you don't want to be here, just tell me. I just think this could be good for us. For now. No more running for now. We can rest."

Daryl lay there for a moment, before he moved to get out of the bed.

"Where are you going now?"

"Gotta get dressed. Time to tell the boss lady she's got two new tenants." He saw the wide grin spread over Carol's face, and he leaned in, kissing her nose and then her lips. She started to tug him back to her, but he stayed strong and pulled back. "You keep doin' that, we ain't gonna get nothin' done today."

"I'm ok with that," she grinned, feeling slightly drunk, dizzy from happiness. She was a little embarrassed that she'd let herself feel like this so quickly, but she figured feeling happy and silly was better than feeling terrified and like a victim. She felt stronger now than she ever had been before.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

The last thing Daryl wanted to do was hand his weapons over, but Michonne assured him that all of their weapons were labeled according to house number, and that if anybody ever checked a weapon out, it was from their own stash or from the armory of weapons that they'd picked up on runs and belonged to no one.

Michonne had conceded to let Daryl keep his crossbow, because, frankly, the thing was too damned complicated, and it wasn't likely that he'd leave it sitting around long enough for a child to pick up and figure out how to load and shoot.

When it came to doling out jobs, Michonne had contemplated giving him a supply runner position considering he had a pickup truck that could hold quite a bit of stuff, but instead, she made him a watchman. He'd be armed and keeping watch for six hours a day. He figured she probably gave him that job to make him feel a little better about where he was. Make him feel like he had a little control. He wasn't going to argue.

Given Carol's pregnancy, Michonne refused to give her a job that would lead her outside the walls or have her put in harm's way. Carol had protested, insisting that she didn't want any special treatment, but Michonne had still given her a job working with the children, at least until after the baby came. She felt a little bit put out by it, because she didn't honestly have much experience with children, but if helping educate the future of Alexandria was what it took for her to have a place in this society, she'd do it.

Their first official morning as Alexandrians, Michonne took them around the community, introducing them to just about everybody. Carol's mind was reeling at how many people there were and how many names there were to remember. There was Pete, the doctor and his wife Jessie, who had two boys named Ron and Sam. Daryl teased Carol about how little Sam seemed to have a crush, because he just kept smiling at her through the whole introduction.

There was Shane Walsh, the constable, and his girlfriend, Lori. Together, they were raising her son, Carl and her daughter, Judith. The sad thing was that Lori's husband had been shot before the turn, and in all of the chaos, he'd been left to die at the hospital. Shane, his partner, had taken Lori and the kids and gotten them to safety, and somehow, a romance had bloomed between them. Carol got it. They'd come together in grief and chaos, and somehow, it had turned into love. If it hadn't been for the turn, she'd never have met Daryl, and she was so thankful that even in the midst of such horror, she'd found something beautiful to hold onto, something to hope for, a reason to wake up every morning.

Shane, Lori and the kids had come to Alexandria about a month ago with a few other survivors. There was Dale, an older gentleman who was now in charge of locking up and checking out guns for people. There was Amy, a sweet girl with pretty blonde hair who seemed lost. Apparently her older sister had been part of their group and had been taken by walkers shortly before they arrived in Alexandria. There was Jacqui, a friendly lady who just happened to be a nurse. She worked closely with Pete, and Michonne noted that Jacqui was an OB nurse before the turn.

And then there was T-Dog. He was a friendly guy. The first time Carol met him, he gave her a wide smile and after a few minutes of chatting, they felt like fast friends.

Daryl was a little wary of people, but he stuck with Carol and took notice of those she seemed to respond to well and the ones that she seemed to steer clear of. Their meeting with Jessie's husband Pete, the doctor, had Carol bristling. He could feel her hand tightening around his. They hadn't talked about it yet, but something about him bothered her, and it worried him for her sake and for the baby's.

After the round of introduction, they'd gone back home, avoiding walking by Merle's house at all costs, because neither of them felt quite in the mood for whatever quips of smartassery Merle would have in store for them.

"What was it?" Daryl asked, as they settled down on the couch together. He pulled his arm around her, and she snuggled up against him on the couch.

"What was what?"

"Somethin' about Pete bothered you."

"You noticed?"

"Yeah, I noticed." He brushed his fingers through her hair. "You can tell me."

"I know." She sighed heavily. "Something about him reminds me of Ed. The way he looks at his wife. Jessie? Something about the way he speaks to her. It reminds me of how things were between me and Ed when we first got married. He seems like he's holding something in. Like he's on the edge." She shrugged. "Maybe it's stupid."

"Ain't stupid."

"I don't feel comfortable with him being my doctor. I know I don't really have a choice, but I don't…I can't."

"Hey," Daryl murmured, stroking her cheek. "I ain't gonna let anything happen to you, alright?" She nodded slowly, tears filling her eyes. "I'll talk to Jacqui."

"Daryl, we just got here. If we let them see we don't trust all of them yet, I…"

"He ain't touchin' you if you don't want him to. Hey, you're shakin'." And she was. Just the mere thought of being in the same room with a man that reminded her so much of Ed had her trembling. She hated that. She knew that she was weak in that moment, but she wasn't just afraid for herself. She was afraid for this baby. For the family that she and Daryl were building together.

"I wish I could just forget him," she whispered as he held her close. "As far away as I try to get from the memory of Ed, he's still here. I'm going to look at this baby every day and remember what Ed did to me, how he treated me." She shook her head. "I'm horrible, Daryl."

"You ain't. You're the strongest woman I've ever known. You fought for this baby. You survived. This baby might be a part of Ed, but it's also a part of you, and ain't _nothin' _wrong with you. This baby needs ya, Carol, and ya gotta believe that."

A knock came to the door, and Daryl sighed heavily.

"You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah," she whispered softly. "I'm just going to go upstairs and lay down for a little bit. I'm not feeling so great." She placed her hand on her stomach, and he put his hand over hers, a look of concern creasing his brow. "It's ok. Go on." He leaned in and kissed her softly, and she gave him a little smile before heading upstairs to lie down.

When Daryl reached the door, he could tell by the shape of the shadow against the curtains that it was Merle. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

"I know you don't want me 'round, but I came to ask a favor."

"What favor?" Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes at his brother.

"Eric's replacement for Aaron's got somethin' wrong with his appendix. Doc Pete's gotta cut his belly open 'fore he kicks, so they need somebody. Guess there's a group of straggler's a half a day away that're havin' trouble fendin' off a herd of walkers. Keep gettin' pushed further into the woods. They need some recruiters to bring 'em in if they're willin'."

"Why don't you do it?"

"Michonne don't want me out there again. Says I don't play well with others and last time was just a test run. Guess I failed." He snickered.

"I ain't a recruiter. I'm a watchman."

"Yeah, but she needs muscle. Somebody good with a gun. Guess that's you, baby brother."

"I ain't leavin' Carol. Not right now."

"It's just half a day's ride. You'll be back this time tomorrow."

"Maybe. Tell Michonne to find somebody else."

"One of the scouts said one of 'em's a doctor," Merle pointed out. Daryl swallowed hard. Of course one of them was a doctor. Of course, because now he was going to have to leave Carol so he could bring that doctor in so Carol wouldn't have to deal with having Pete care for her when she was clearly so uncomfortable around him.

With a frustrated grunt, Daryl knocked his knuckles against the door frame. He looked over his shoulders to where Carol was standing on the landing, watching him. Their eyes locked for a moment, before Carol gave him a little nod.

"Tell Michonne I'll think about it."

"Don't think long. Aaron's gearin' up to leave in a half hour." Daryl promptly shut the door in Merle's face and turned to lean against it.

"I ain't leavin' you."

"I'll be ok," she promised him, coming back down the steps.

"Don't wanna leave you alone in this place. Just got here."

"I can lock the door. I think I'll be ok."

"Don't trust it. Don't trust them. Not all of 'em." Carol nodded a little and put her hands on his shoulders.

"Just go. Help those people and come back. I'll be here. I promise." She gave him a gentle smile before standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "Besides, do you know how long it's been since I've been home alone? Like…had an entire house to myself?"

"Oh, now you're just tryin' to get rid of me, huh?" he teased, a grin curling at his lips despite the worry curling around in his belly.

"I love you," she said softly, not a bit of uncertainty about it. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding as he let the words sink in.

"I love you too," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her once more. She sighed softly, a feeling of relief washing over her as she heard him say it for the first time.

"Good," she grinned. "Just hurry back. I'm not going anywhere. I promise."


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Carol tried to keep her mind of all of her worries after Daryl left. Despite the fact that the entire house was spotless, she went about cleaning it herself just to have something to do. She found a stack of CDs in one of the closets and blasted the music through the house as she worked. It was a little strange to listen to the words and think that the people that wrote those words and sang those words were no longer living. But she enjoyed listening to it, anyway, as it took her mind off of the fact that she had no idea what was going to happen next.

By the time she finished cleaning inside, it was dusk, and she moved out onto the front porch to sweep. It was then that she saw T-Dog coming up the path. She smiled and gave him a little wave.

"Evening," she called.

"Hey, Carol," he said with a nod. "How you doin'?"

"Keeping busy. Trying not to think too long about Daryl being out there."

"He's in good company. Aaron's a real good guy." T-Dog came up the porch steps. "I haven't been here too long, but I know it's a good place. Been in some pretty bad places since the turn. Seen a lot of good people die." He shook his head. "Not everybody gets along here. People try and stay outta each other's ways, but it's hard sometimes." Carol eyed him. "I only say that 'cause you seem nervous. I get it. It takes a minute to get used to everything."

"Not sure I can get used to it," Carol confessed.

"That's what I thought too," T-Dog chuckled. "But then I had a chat with Dale, and well, Dale has a way of convincing you that everything works out the way it's supposed to."

"Oh really?" Carol asked. "I might just have to have a talk with Dale later."

"He's a pretty good guy," T-Dog said with a shrug. "Hey, just wanted to let you know that if you folks need anything, I just live across the street. The green house with the swing on the porch.

"Thank you T-Dog." Carol said with a smile.

"Hey, anytime." He headed off, and Carol smiled after him before returning to her work.

She winced a little, feeling a twinge in her lower back. She knew she'd overdone it, and she figured it was probably best to call it a day on the cleaning. So, she propped the broom up in the corner of the porch and sat down on the swing, feeling the cool breeze tickle her skin as the day slowly began to wind down.

Every few minutes, someone would come walking down the street, returning from their shift at their particular post. It felt good to have a little bit of stability; a little bit of order in a world full of chaos. In some ways, it felt like the way it used to be. She could remember standing on the front porch in those blissful few minutes before Ed returned home from work. Children would come running out of their houses to greet their moms or dads as they pulled into the drive. She'd always longed for that kind of home life, but it had never been a possibility with Ed.

As she stood there watching Alexandria wind down for the evening, she almost missed the flash of dirty blond hair that rushed past the porch rails through the side yard. She glanced over to see a young boy trying to climb over her fence.

"Hey!" she hollered. The boy slipped and tumbled to the ground, yelping in pain as he landed funny on his ankle. She hurried down the porch steps and moved over to him, kneeling by him at the fence. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his ankle. "I'm ok." Carol let out a sigh of relief.

"What were you doing trying to hop my fence?"

"My brother Ron threw my baseball over it. I live two houses over. He's got a good arm." Carol sighed and shook her head.

"Come on. I'll get you your ball. Can you stand?"

"Uh-huh." He stood, turning his ankle a couple of times before he put his foot on the ground. "See? Good as new."

"You're Sam, aren't you?"

"How'd you know?"

"Lucky guess," Carol replied with a smile. "I'm Carol."

"You're new."

"Mmmhmm," Carol grinned. "Is that ok?"

"Sure."

"C'mon. Let's go through the house to the back yard, get your ball. You like cookies?"

"Yeah!"

"I might have a couple in the pantry."

"Cool," Sam said with a beaming grin, seeming to forget all about his sore ankle for a moment. He followed Carol into the house, his eager, clomping footsteps bewildering and amusing her, and suddenly, she was very much ready for the pitter patter of little feet running all over her house. She put her hand protectively over her stomach, a warm smile spreading over her face.

After retrieving Sam's ball and treating him to a couple of cookies, she walked him down the street to his house.

"You didn't have to come back with me. I can walk myself back," Sam offered.

"I know, but I thought I'd explain to your mother why there's cookie crumbs all over your face and shirt."

"Oh," Sam said with a nod and a laugh.

"My mom's Jessie."

"And your dad's Pete. The doctor." Sam said nothing. "You like being here? In Alexandria?"

"I didn't like it out _there_. There's kids here. It's fun sometimes. Mom says you're having a baby?"

"Your mom's right."

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"I don't know. We'll find out when it gets here."

"Is your husband nice?" He squinted up at her as they walked, and Carol smiled a little, thinking about correcting him for a moment, but feeling it was probably not appropriate to explain the difference between married and just living together to a boy Sam's age.

"He's very nice. He's a good man."

"Good. Does he like baseball?"

"I don't know. You'll have to ask him yourself," Carol said with an amused grin. They made their way up the porch steps, and Carol knocked on the door. She could hear shuffling inside, and then the door swung open. Jessie appeared, and Carol could see that her eyes were pink, probably from crying and rubbing away the tears. She glanced at Sam, who visibly tensed at her side.

Jessie put on a smile, and Carol swallowed hard. This girl reminded her so much of herself that it was painful. She put her hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Sam, where have you been?"

"Ron threw my baseball over the fence again," Sam groaned. "It went into Miss Carol's yard. She gave me cookies." He held up his chocolate-covered fingers. Jessie smiled and ruffled her son's hair.

"Go on in before your dad gets home. Get cleaned up for dinner, ok?" He just nodded quickly and looked up at Carol.

"Thanks for the cookies."

"You're welcome, Sam. Next time you need to hop my fence, just knock on the door, ok? It's less painful that way." Sam grinned up at her and hurried inside.

"Sorry about that. I'll talk to him," Jessie offered, her voice tense.

"He really was no trouble. He took a tumble from the fence though. You might have your husband take a look at his ankle." Jessie nodded. "He says it's fine, but from what I understand, boys can be stubborn. And then they just grow up to be stubborn men." She cracked a smile, but Jessie flinched.

"I'll have Pete take a look at him. Thank you for bringing him home."

"He's no trouble. I hope I didn't spoil his dinner." Jessie gave her a half-hearted smile and shook her head a little. "Have a good night." Carol felt a little dizzy as she turned to walk away, so she grabbed hold of the screen door.

"You ok?"

"I'm a little dizzy."

"Have you eaten?"

"I got so busy cleaning. I think maybe I skipped a meal."

"Come on in. You can join us if you like," Jessie offered. Carol shook her head.

"No, it's alright. I'm just going to go lie down." She turned and started off the porch when a sharp pain hit her, and her knees buckled. She felt two hands under her arms, keeping her from falling, and then everything went black. The last thing Carol heard before she passed out was Jessie screaming. "Sam, go find your father!"


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Daryl could barely keep his eyes open as Aaron pulled the car through the gates. The squeal the gates roused him from his exhaustion a little, only because it sent a bundle of nerves coiling through his belly. He was almost home. To her.

The rows of homes were mostly lit up, the yellow glow of electric lights warming the darkness, but the first thing he noticed was that his house was dark. Maybe she was sleeping.

They'd been gone nearly twenty-four hours. The mission to bring back the doctor and his group had failed. First of all, he wasn't a doctor. He was a veterinarian. Second of all, the group was led by a man who seemed to be on the edge, untrusting of anything and anyone who got too close. They'd caught the vet first, and he'd been a rational man, but when he'd taken them to the group leader, a man named Rick, he'd advised them to leave, to get away from his family, because apparently, the broken, exhausted group had formed some sort of familial bond out there. He got it. He understood. And he didn't push, because a few more weeks or months out on the road, he and Carol may have been the same way. Or they'd have been dead.

"We'll try again," Aaron said quietly.

"What's the point? They don't want help?"

"They do," Aaron remarked. "He doesn't."

"Maybe they just leave him?"

"Would you leave Carol?"

"What's that got to…"

"You protect each other. You look out for each other. You came here, because she wanted to. If she didn't want to come, you would have said no." Daryl thought for a moment. "They have his back. That's good. He just needs some convincing that we can be trusted." Aaron peered at Daryl. "I'm not entirely convinced you trust us at this point. Not completely. That's ok. Trust like that takes a while to build. I don't trust easily, either. I get it." Aaron parked the car in front of his house, and Daryl got out first. "She'd leave for you, too. If you wanted to leave. You've got each other." Daryl leaned down to peer through the window at Aaron.

"I'd go anywhere with her."

At that moment, the door to Jessie and Pete's house swung open, and Daryl startled. Aaron hurried out of the car just as Merle came stalking out of the house, rushing down the porch steps. Daryl could barely make out his brother's expression in the evening light, but he could tell something was wrong. It was then that he looked back to his dark house and then back at Merle that he felt like somebody had punched him in the gut. He dropped his pack and started toward the sidewalk to meet Merle. Why would Merle be at Pete and Jessie's if there wasn't a medical emergency?

"What happened? Where's Carol?"

"Calm down, baby brother," Merle started.

"Don't fuckin' tell me to calm down. Where's Carol?"

"She's inside. Doc Pete's got her restin'. Jacqui and Jessie are with her."

"What happened?" Daryl was on the verge of tears now, chewing his lip to keep his emotions in check.

"She got dizzy, had some pain. Passed out. Jessie was hollerin', and little Sam went runnin' like he had a fire lit under him. He couldn't find his daddy, so he found me, got me to his house." Daryl's head swam as he tried to process everything as fast as Merle was throwing it at him. "She was hurtin' awful bad."

"Is she ok? Merle, just tell me."

"She's gonna be ok. She's just gotta rest. Gotta keep her strength up."

"The baby?" Daryl asked, his heart hammering so fast in his chest he thought it might explode.

"You're gonna have to talk to her 'bout that. Doc Pete ain't said anything. Jacqui's quiet as a mouse. Carol's been askin' for ya." Before he even finished his sentence, Daryl was halfway up the porch steps. As the door opened and slammed shut, Aaron grabbed Daryl's pack off the ground and hoisted it over his shoulder, making a mental note to return it to him later.

"Is Carol really going to be ok?" Aaron asked.

"Hope for Daryl's sake she is. If I know anything 'bout my little brother, I know if anything happens to her, he ain't gonna be able to handle it. No, sir, she dies, he'll die right along with her."

Several townspeople—people whose names Daryl hadn't bothered to learn yet—were gathered in the living room when Daryl entered the house. The older man, Daryl thought his name was Dale, stood, but Daryl paid none of them any attention, taking the steps two at a time, running into Pete at the top of the stairs.

His throat tightened, thinking Carol must have been so terrified to have to be treated by this doctor that she obviously was uncomfortable with. He hated that he hadn't been there. He hated that this stupid run that had gotten them nowhere with no more survivors, had kept him from her when she needed him the most. For now, Pete might just be the man that saved Carol's life, so Daryl decided not to jump to too many conclusions and just let the man speak.

"How is she?"

"She's resting. She's weak."

"She gonna be ok?"

"She'll be fine," Pete promised. "Jacqui's with her now. We've got her on an IV drip, keeping her hydrated. A few days of bed rest, and she should be fine."

"The baby?"

"Baby's fine. Carol just pushed herself too far. You need to make sure she stays put. Make sure she doesn't overwork herself." Daryl nodded solemnly.

"I wanna see her."

"Go on ahead. You're welcome to stay with her. We set a cot up in the room, just in case." Daryl eyed the man, not quite trusting him enough to stay under the same roof with him, but he sure as hell wasn't leaving Carol there alone.

"Thanks," Daryl muttered. He headed into the room that Pete had just come from, and his gaze immediately fell upon Carol's pale form on the bed. She gasped softly when she saw him, and Jacqui breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thank God you're here," Jacqui murmured. "She's doing fine. Baby's fine. She just needs you. I'm going home to my family. You need anything in the night, we live at the end of the block."

"Thank you, Jacqui. Thank you for everything," Carol murmured tiredly. Jacqui patted Carol's hand and gave her a knowing smile.

"Hey, I'm more than happy to fill in, but there's only so much I can do. Now that 'dad's' here, I think it's time for me to go." Daryl felt his heart ache at the sound of somebody calling him a father. He swallowed hard, and Carol caught his look as Jacqui left.

"I didn't think to tell them my life story. They just assume…"

"It's ok," Daryl said softly, sitting down at her bedside, taking her hand and kissing her forehead. "I don't mind. Kid already feels like mine, y'know?" He placed his hand on her stomach, and she took a gasping breath before letting the tears go. "Hey, it's ok. You're ok."

"It's not…oh God," she cried, letting go of everything she'd been holding in since she'd collapsed. Daryl had no earthly idea what to do, so he got up and moved around the bed, lowering himself down onto the mattress. She turned toward him, and he curled his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, letting her lean into him. He stroked her arm and her side as she sobbed against his neck, and he just let her cry until she was ready to talk.

His hands trembled as he held her, and he moved his hand down to her belly, gently stroking her there. She muffled a sob against his shoulder and sniffled, pulling back to look up at him, her eyes red from crying.

"I'm being punished," she choked out. "I was going to…I wasn't going to keep it, and now I'm being punished."

"No," he murmured, stroking her cheek. "Don't think like that. You're ok. The baby's ok." He curled his fingers around hers, bringing her hand to his lips. He placed a kiss to the center of her palm.

"This baby doesn't...maybe it isn't meant to be. What kind of life can I give it? What kind of life…" She shook her head. Daryl pulled her in close as she broke down again, and he kissed the side of her head.

"She's gonna be great. Sophia. She's gonna be happy and healthy, 'cause she's got a mama who'd do anything in this world to keep her safe. She's gonna know how brave her mama was to bring her into this world, 'cause ain't nothin' easy."

"Sophia?" Carol asked, blinking back tears.

"That's her name, ain't it?" Carol bit her lower lip, nodding.

"If she's a girl," Carol reminded him.

"She is," Daryl murmured, a little grin spreading over his lips.

"You know this how?"

"Just know," he said quietly, stroking her stomach. "And she's gonna look just like her mama. She's gonna be beautiful and strong and brave. She's gonna make it in this world, 'cause she's got you. And she's got me. No daughter of mine's gonna grow up not knowin' her daddy, you hear me?" Carol felt the tears sting her eyes again, but this time they were happy tears.

"I love you so much," she whimpered. He pulled her in close, gently kissing her lips, stroking her hair and feeling her warm breath against his lips.

"Love you, too," he promised. "It's gonna be alright. You'll see."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Carol stood in front of the mirror in their bedroom. She turned from side to side, admiring the swell of her belly, the way it was now obvious, even if she pulled on a sweater. She lifted her shirt, running her fingers over her stomach, smiling when she felt him press up against her, his arms wrapping around her. His face appeared in the mirror as he rested his chin on her shoulder, stroking her stomach and kissing her neck.

"Mornin', beautiful."

"You're just saying I'm beautiful because I gave you sex last night," she pouted.

"Maybe, but it's still true," he offered. She snorted as his hand moved up her stomach to gently squeeze her breast.

Carol was doing great. She was visiting Jacqui for regular checkups every two weeks, and so far, the pregnancy was progressing well. Carol figured she was about halfway through her fourth month, and she felt better than ever. She wasn't achy or nauseated anymore. She felt good. She felt happy. She kept a distance from Pete unless she absolutely needed anything, and he was more than happy to send the maternity cases to Jacqui, just because he wasn't the kind of doctor who dealt well with emotional patients.

Carol still didn't trust him. He'd helped her considerably, yes, but she still noticed the way Jessie would jump so slightly that it probably wasn't noticeable to other people. She was skittish when Pete was around, and Carol had noticed the bruises on her arms. Now that the weather was turning colder, it would be easier to cover them up, and it sickened Carol that this poor young woman had to go through that.

"We're going to be late if you keep that up," Carol laughed, swatting at his hand as he pawed at her boob.

"It's just Merle. He'll understand."

"Daryl," Carol scolded, turning in his arms. His hands immediately went to her hips, and he gaze dipped down to her breasts. She chucked his chin, forcing his gaze up to her eyes. "You're just starting to get along with him." Daryl sighed. It was true. After Carol had told Daryl how much Merle had helped her when she'd gotten sick while he was away, Daryl was slowly coming around to the idea of having his brother back in his life. It was a tentative reconciliation, but it was happening, and while Carol's first impressions of Merle had left something to be desired, she was grateful to him for being there and for keeping cool when informing Daryl about her condition.

Merle had invited them to a party at his place, which they figured he'd thrown as a way to get in good with the other Alexandrians, considering he was on his last chance, and Michonne didn't exactly love the guy.

"It's probably just gonna be a bunch of pricks boozin' it up, anyway," Daryl said with a shrug.

"But he invited us, and we told him we'd go." Daryl sighed heavily and pawed at her hips.

"Don't wanna. Just wanna stay here with you. Don't like leavin' you like I have to tomorrow. S'posed to be a watchman." He saw Carol's smile fade. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. Carol hated the idea of him leaving, too, but Michonne had encouraged him to go back with Aaron this time, since he'd been the one to first make contact. It would be better not to take a stranger to the next meeting with the group of survivors that held onto their way of life outside of Alexandria.

"You'll be back in no time, and hopefully you won't have to go out there anymore. At least not to recruit. You'll be careful?"

"'Course. Aaron wants to give 'em one last chance to come with us. If they don't, we ain't riskin' anybody again goin' out there. Their leader was…outta touch. I mean, we all had bad shit happen to us, but he was…I dunno. Said he woke up alone and the group found him half-dead outside a hospital. He probably should be dead. Man like that? Ain't gonna be easy to convince him to come with us. Hell, I still ain't entirely convinced this is gonna last forever."

"You might want to avoid phrases like that when you go out there," she pointed out, kissing him on the nose. He sighed and pressed his face against her neck, inhaling her scent, memorizing her. She smiled and ran her fingers throw his hair again.

"C'mon," she urged. "Let's at least make an appearance. Your brother'll understand if we duck out early, hmm?"

"How early?" he asked, a hopeful grin on his face as he looked up at her. She smirked at him and shook her head.

"Early enough that I can tire you out. Maybe you'll actually sleep through the night."

"Hey, I sleep."

"Yeah, you sleep, but every time I wake up to pee because this baby uses my bladder as a trampoline, you're awake and you're staring at me."

"I like watchin' you sleep."

"That's really sweet, and a little creepy."

"Noted."

"Come here," she laughed, pulling her arms around his shoulders. "Love you."

"Me too," he grumbled against her mouth, gently taking her lower lip between his teeth and giving it a little tug. "Alright, let's go."

The party at Merle's turned out to be a gathering of exactly three people. Carol, Daryl and Merle. Everyone else had politely declined the invitation, which seemed just fine for Merle, who was on this third beer by the time Carol and Daryl arrived.

"This is awkward," Daryl muttered as Merle stumbled to the door.

"Hey, baby brother's here," Merle slurred, pulling him into a sloppy hug and attempting some awkward version of a nougie. "Hey, beautiful." Merle winked at Carol who just ducked her head a little.

"Nice to see you too, Merle. Love what you've done with the place." The place was a wreck, and Carol was honestly considering starting a board of health simply to keep after Merle to get his shit together.

"Have a seat. My casa is your house, or whatever the hell they say."

"Yeah," Daryl muttered, giving Carol a look that begged escape, but she just shook her head. They took a seat on a couch across from Merle's chair. "Some party you got here, Merle."

"Well, tell you the truth, I didn't really want nobody else here. Just wanted a nice, family get together. Wanted to talk to ya'll 'bout somethin'."

"About what?" Carol asked, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Well, I been thinkin' that this place ain't workin' out for me. Been thinkin' of joinin' up with the supply runners of the scouts. Maybe I can get outta this shithole for a while, y'know?"

"That's up to you, bro," Daryl said with a shrug.

"That's dangerous," Carol pointed out. "You've got a good thing going with the construction crew. Why risk your life to go outside the gates if you don't want to?"

"Just a little 'ole mouse afraid of your own shadow, you are," Merle chuckled, sucking down the last of the beer from his bottle.

"Shut up, Merle," Daryl warned.

"Ain't such a bad thing, fear. Keeps you motivated. Keeps you goin'. Here? Hell, they're lookin' for a reason to throw me out. Figure if I leave for a while, they'll forget why they hate me so much."

"Oh, ya mean 'cause you're loud mouth and a bigoted prick?" Daryl asked. Merle chuckled at that.

"C'mon now, baby brother. You know me better'n that. I don't sugarcoat things. Just tell 'em how I see 'em."

"Nah, you're just makin' excuses so you can keep on bein' a prick."

"Ok, this is going nowhere," Carol muttered, standing up. "Daryl has an early morning tomorrow, Merle. Is this all you wanted to talk to us about?"

"'Bout sums it up," Merle said with a shrug. "'Cept I was gonna ask if Daryl wanted to join me, go out on the road, just like old times."

"Go to hell, Merle," Daryl muttered. "I know where my home is. Ain't my fault you don't fit in." Merle smirked at him and shrugged his shoulders, popping open another bottle of beer.

"Want me to wait?" Carol asked quietly, curling her fingers around his.

"Nah, I'll catch up in a minute. You go on." He gave her hand a squeeze, and she headed out of Merle's house, leaving the two alone. "What's your problem? You got a problem with Carol, or…?"

"Hell, I ain't got no problem with her. She's good for ya, brother. She's made a real man outta you." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Never thought I'd see the day. Truth is, I'm happy for ya. You got what mama and daddy didn't get. You got somethin' that matters. You got somethin' worth fightin' _for_. All they had? All they had was us, and they let us know every damned day that we wasn't worth fightin' for. Didn't they?"

Daryl didn't know what to say. He swallowed hard and sat back down.

"Remember one night after mama died? I ran away."

"Daddy was mad as a hornet," Merle remembered with a chuckle. "Came chasin' you outta that house with a belt, didn't he?"

"I ran 'til my lungs burned, and 'bout pissed myself when old Mrs. Cready's car nearly knocked me on my ass. And then you were there, tellin' her you was takin' me home to daddy. But you didn't. We snuck off in the woods for a week. Just went fishin' and huntin'." Merle chuckled at the memory.

"You got poison oak."

"Yeah. That sucked. I remember you dropped me off thinkin' he'd be drunk or high or forget why he was pissed off. Maybe even off on a bender outta town. Truth is, he was home. He was drunk. He broke two of my ribs that night." Merle let out a long, slow breath.

"Shit, I didn't know."

"No, you didn't. You wasn't there."

"We gonna keep on with this? You tellin' me what a shit brother I was, me apologizin' for being a shit brother? 'Cause we could go 'round and 'round."

"It ain't the point," Daryl pointed out. That woman. That woman you called a scared little mouse? She's the closest thing I've ever had to family. She comes first. That baby comes first. You might be my brother, but I don't know you anymore. Not like I should. And I don't want…I don't want ya to think I'm bein' a dick 'cause I'm pissed. I just...she's it. She's my priority. Her and that baby. And if you wanna be a part of this family, you gotta understand that. You do what you gotta do, Merle. Leavin' ain't the only option." Daryl got back up and headed for the door. "Get some sleep. Sober up. You're gonna feel like shit, but at least you'll know you're alive."

Carol heard the creak of the screen door and started down the stairs. Daryl was just taking off his boots, a very domestic thing that made Carol smile.

"Merle ok?"

"Merle's Merle," he pointed out. She sighed and met him at the foot of the stairs. He leaned into her, pressing his forehead against hers, linking his fingers with hers.

"Daryl, you know you have my full support when it comes to Merle. If you want him back in your life, I understand that. You don't have to keep him at a distance because you think it's the right thing to do. I love you, but I won't stand in between the two of you. I won't be the one that gets in the way of your family."

"You _are_ my family. This baby. Merle, too, but he's gotta get his head on straight. He ain't…I look at him, and I think…that could be me. If I was the older one, hell, maybe I'd have got the hell out as soon as I could. Maybe I would have left Merle."

"I don't believe that," she murmured, running her hand down his arm. "You both went through a horrible childhood. Both of you. And he was your big brother. He should have been there for you, but you have to look at it this way. What could he do? What could he do, Daryl?" She gently ran her hand over his cheek. "I'm not saying you're wrong to resent that he wasn't there. But he was a victim too. He did what he had to do. He wasn't…he wasn't as strong as you are. You fought through it. You made it. He did all he could do to protect himself. I've been there. I've been so scared that all I wanted to do was run."

"But you didn't."

"I stayed. I shouldn't have. I made the wrong choice. You didn't have a choice. Merle did. Maybe he made the wrong one, but you were just a little boy. You were…" Carol felt the tears sting her eyes. "Merle's an asshole. I get that. But he's still your brother, and I know you love him, or else you wouldn't be so angry at him. You wouldn't be trying to work things out." Daryl looked down. "Don't use me as an excuse to keep him at arm's length. That's all I'm saying. I'm not afraid of him. I know how to handle Dixon men." She winked at him, and he chuckled.

"Right, you do. Just don't go handlin' Merle the way you handle me."

"Thanks for the imagery," Carol snorted. Daryl pulled her in close, kissing her softly. "We could give this baby a real family. A mom, a dad, and a…drunk uncle Merle." Daryl snorted this time.

"Yeah. And if he has anything to say 'bout it, she'll be swearin' like a sailor before she's potty trained."

"Oh no," Carol laughed. "My daughter's going to be a little lady."

"She's a Dixon," Daryl chuckled. "Sorry to break it to ya, sweetheart, but she's gonna be pickin' fights with the boys one of these days. Just you wait and see."

"Oh Lord, what have I gotten myself into?" she asked, a grin spreading over her face.

"C'mon. Let me take ya upstairs and show ya." And she let him.

The group's camp was gone, but Daryl was easily able to track them to a barn about three miles away. As he and Aaron pulled up in the pickup, Aaron glanced at him from the passenger's side.

"Do we go in armed, or do we risk it?"

"Armed, but not drawn," Daryl decided. "They see us come in with guns pointed, that ain't gonna help the trust factor." He shook his head.

The barn door swung open, and the old man with white hair and white beard came hobbling out. He was injured, and his pant leg was bloody. He held his hands up, and Daryl was the first out of the truck.

"Where's the man in charge?"

"If you're willing to talk, I think he's willing to listen now." His voice was strained, weak. "We've lost more."

"M'sorry," Daryl said with a nod.

"My girls are gone. We were attacked last night. I caught a bullet in the leg."

"A bullet? One of your people?"

"No. Don't know who they are," he murmured. "But my Maggie. She…she was shot. They took my Beth. She…" His voice broke. "We buried them this morning."

"I'm so sorry," Aaron murmured, walking up quietly. Daryl glanced at him. He hadn't even heard him get out of the truck. But his attention went back to the old man. "It's just the four of us now. My son-in-law, Glenn. My grandson. And Rick. I'm Hershel." At that moment, a young Asian man came walking out of the barn carrying a small bundle in his arms. A newborn baby was nestled against his chest, a head full of dark hair feathered his scalp, and Daryl glanced at the old man and then at the younger one.

"The fever hit him last night," Glenn murmured. "He's…it's not good."

"He got bit?"

"He was trying to…Beth came back. It happened so fast, and she got him." Glenn shook his head.

"We amputated the arm, but he's getting worse," Hershel murmured. "It could be infection, but I don't think we got it in time." Daryl and Aaron turned to one another.

"Please," Glenn urged, "come talk to him. He'll listen now."

"It's too late for him. Might as well put him out of his misery," Daryl muttered, squinting as the sun reflected off a piece of metal on the side of the barn. He shielded his eyes. It was then that the barn door creaked open again, and Rick came stumbling out, face pale, covered in sweat.

"You should go with them," Rick panted. It was all he could do to keep standing. "Keep them safe, Hershel. They're all that's left." He collapsed on the ground, and Aaron was the first to him. Rick shrunk away from Aaron. "Stop. Don't touch me."

"I'm only trying to help."

"I'm a dead man," Rick muttered, leaning against the barn door. "But they're not. Don't know who your leader is, but I sure as hell hope they know what's important. This." He motioned toward Glenn and the baby. "That's important." Hershel was at his side now, helping him stand. "Get up. Come on. Let's get you inside to rest."

"Rest," Rick chuckled, his eyes rolling back slightly as he fought to remain alert. "I'll rest when I'm dead. Then maybe I'll see them again. Carl. Judith…" Daryl and Aaron looked at one another quickly, and together, they rushed to help Hershel get Rick into the barn.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

"We need to get back," Daryl urged Aaron as they stood outside by the truck. "We're just, what? Waitin' on this guy to die?"

"We're waiting, because that's what his group needs. If we just leave him to die? You really want to do that?"

"No," Daryl muttered. "Just don't like being out here."

"You mean away from Carol?"

"Shut up."

"Hey, I get it. She's pregnant. You're having a family. That's great for you both. I don't like being away from Eric. But if we can get these people to safety? If we can build our numbers? I think that's worth it, don't you?"

"Sure," Daryl said with a shrug.

"You're good at this, you know?" Aaron asked. "Maybe Michonne should reconsider putting you on watch duty. Maybe you should do this permanently. Recruiting."

"Don't want that," Daryl muttered. "Got a family to look after, and I ain't willin' to be away from 'em anymore'n I have to."

"Understood," Aaron said with a nod. "I can't imagine what the two of you went through with the change and everything. Were you together when it happened? Did you find one another?"

"You always ask this many questions?" Daryl asked.

"What can I say? I'm an inquisitive guy. Sorry. I don't mean to sound nosy."

"S'alright," Daryl nodded.

"You're really not much of a talker, are you?"

"You figured that out?" Daryl snorted. Aaron shrugged.

"You fit in. Just so you know. If you were wondering. You and Carol? Everybody likes you." Daryl shrugged a little, clearly uncomfortable with all the praise.

The barn door opened, and Glenn came walking out, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"How's he doing?" Aaron asked.

"Still has a fever," Glenn murmured somberly. "It didn't take this long with Beth. Took longer with some of the others. It's different with everybody." Glenn eyed them both. "What was that look?"

"What look?" Daryl asked.

"When Rick mentioned his family. You both looked at each other like you knew something." Daryl and Aaron glanced at one another again. "Like that. What the hell is that?"

"Rick's family?"

"It's all he ever talks about. His wife, Lori. They had a son and a baby girl named Judith. All he ever wanted was to find them. When we found him outside of the hospital, some of us helped him. Some of us went to help him look for them, but they were gone."

"Is he awake?" Daryl asked.

"In and out," Glenn offered.

"Do you want me to…" Aaron started.

"Nah, I'll do it." The truth was, Daryl couldn't imagine being in the same situation as Rick. The idea of being separated from Carol for any length of time was horrifying. Being away from her now, he still had her in the back of his mind at all times. If it had been him, he'd have killed every walker from Atlanta to Alexandria trying to find her.

Daryl made his way to the door, pulling it open to find Rick in the stall they'd left him in. Hershel was keeping watch on him while rocking his grandson to sleep in his arms.

"How's he doin'?" Daryl asked.

"Fever's the same," Hershel said with a nod. "No worse though."

"That's good. Mind if I sit with him? Need to talk to him."

"Go on. He'll be needing more antibiotics in an hour. I'll come back then." Daryl just nodded, and he moved to trade places with Hershel, who'd been sitting on an old milking stood. Daryl crouched low, sitting down on it, taking a piece of straw and sticking it in the corner of his mouth, chewing it nervously.

"This town you're from," Rick started weakly, "how many people are there?"

"Ain't from there. Just got there, really," Daryl shrugged. "I'd say maybe forty, fifty. Growin' every day. Got babies on the way."

"So, you what? Go out, grab up survivors and bring 'em in."

"I don't do shit," Daryl muttered. "I ain't even s'posed to be here. Ain't my job. But yeah, I guess that's what they do. They give ya a choice, at least."

"What? Be safe or be eaten?"

"Guess so," Daryl replied.

"Why did you decide to go?"

"'Cause some things are more important than my own fucked up problems."

"You married?

"Not exactly," Daryl replied. "Maybe one day, if she wants. Got a kid on the way."

"Congratulations," Rick said with a cough. "Best feeling in the world, holding that baby in your arms for the first time."

"Rick," Daryl began, "I ain't here to have a heart-to-heart. You gotta know something. I don't know if it makes any difference to you, and I thought about not sayin' anything at all, since you…"

"Since I'm probably gonna die." Daryl nodded. "Whatever it is, seems important enough that you'd wanna come have a sit down chat, so just tell me."

"Your wife? Your kids, Carl and Judith?"

"What about them?" Rick asked, closing his eyes and flinching in pain when he shifted on the hay.

"They're in Alexandria." Rick's eyes snapped open.

"What did you just say?"

"Lori, Carl, Judith, and…Shane. He says he was your partner on the force. They're all in Alexandria. They think you're dead, man." Rick swallowed hard, blinking rapidly a few times as he processed the information.

"They're ok? They're…"

"They're fine, I guess. Live down the block from my house."

"All of them? Together." Daryl shifted uncomfortably now, dreading where the conversation was going. Rick sighed and pounded his fist against the side of the stall. Daryl watched him, watched the realization hit him that his family had survived and moved on without him, with Shane.

He started to sit up, and Daryl moved to stand.

"What are you doin'?" Rick said nothing, but he collapsed to his knees as soon as he stood. Daryl helped him back into the hay, and Rick turned to his side, facing the side of the stall.

"Leave me be."

"You need Hershel?"

"Just get out!" Rick hollered. And Daryl did as he asked. His stomach coiled into knots. He understood. He was pretty sure that if it had been him and Carol, and Carol had given up on him, assumed he was dead, he'd probably want to _be_ dead. The thought of losing her in any way terrified him, and suddenly, all he wanted was to get back to Alexandria. Home. To her.

Carol had just finished her shift with the children, sending them home to each write a paragraph of what Alexandria meant to them and what they wanted to do when they grew up to contribute to the community. Her most eager student was Sam. He seemed to hang on her every word, while some of them barely paid her any attention. After all, she was new, and she was here bossing them around, but if she remembered correctly from her own school days, this was pretty much exactly the way substitute teachers were treated.

She was the teacher, basically. Every other day, Lori was with them, and she was the one that most of them were used to. Carl seemed to enjoy the days Carol worked with them, because at least the kids couldn't tease him that he was the teacher's pet.

She was exhausted, to say the least. Her back ached, and she had a headache. All she wanted was to go home and snuggle up in bed with Daryl, but Daryl wasn't home. He might not be home for a few days, and she hated that. She hated having nothing to do and having enough time on her hands that her mind could wander to all of the awful things that could happen to him while he was out there.

"Miss Carol?" Carol turned just as she was starting up the steps. She turned to face Sam, who apparently had followed her home.

"Hi Sam," she said tiredly.

"Can I ask you a question?" Oh, she was very tired. But she smiled and gave him a little nod before sitting down at the top of the porch steps. She patted the spot beside her, beckoning him to sit next to her, which he did, promptly.

"What is it, Sam?"

"I can't think of anything to write, and I was wondering what Alexandria means to _you_. I promise I won't steal your answers." Carol smiled at that.

"Honestly? I'm not entirely sure what it means to me yet," she mused. "I know I feel safe here. Safer than I did out there. I don't worry as much."

"What did you worry about out there? Besides the monsters, I mean."

"I worried about a lot of things. Where I would sleep next. My next meal. If Daryl was ok. The baby. Here? Here, I know I'll wake up in my own bed and I won't have to worry about finding something to eat, because I've got food waiting for me downstairs. There are people here. We have walls. We're safe from what's out there."

"So to you, Alexandria is a safe place, then?"

"I suppose so," Carol said with a little shrug. "I still worry about things. I worry when people leave. I worry they won't come back. I worry that someday…" She looked at the boy, seeing all the youth and innocence in his features, and she couldn't crush that. She worried every day that the walls would come down, that somebody would come and want to take what they had by force. It was a real possibility, but she couldn't hurt the boy like that. She couldn't scare him that way.

"Someday?"

"I worry that someday I'll…forget what it's like out there. I don't ever want to do that. I want to be prepared for anything." Sam nodded slowly. "I know Alexandria means something else for you. You didn't see much of the outside, did you?"

"Not really," Sam shrugged. "I've seen the monsters, but I never got close."

"You don't want to get close.," Carol said quietly. "The best thing you can do, Sam, is stay in these walls and never let anybody convince you to go out. It's not worth it. You're safe here." She felt a little guilty, what with her own worries about the walls coming down someday, but this boy was special. She'd bonded with him in some ways, and she knew he had enough to deal with at home. The last thing he needed was any thoughts being put into his head that the outside was a good place to be, a safe place. It wasn't. And the more she thought about it, the more she looked toward the gates, hoping at any moment Daryl would be back, and she wouldn't have to worry anymore.

Carol yawned, pulling a piece of homemade bread out of the bread box and spreading some jam made from the fruits of Alexandria's orchard over it. She took a bite, sighing softly at the taste of it. She still wasn't quite used to such treats as these. She was used to eating squirrel and deer and whatever animal Daryl had managed to find and kill and cook for their suppers.

She was just starting toward the table to sit down and relax before starting her shift with the children when she heard the front door open. The only other person with a key to the house was Daryl, and her heart leapt in her chest. Before she could even get up, he was in the kitchen, his eyes searching frantically for her.

"Daryl? Daryl, what's wrong? Are you ok?" Her heart thundered in her chest as she stood, her eyes on him as he made his way over to her. Her hands were moving up the sleeves of his jacket. "Please tell me you aren't bit. Daryl, oh God." Her eyes flooded with tears.

"I'm ok," he promised. "Just needed to see you." She sighed heavily and gave his arm a shove.

"You scared the hell out of me!"

"I'm sorry," he murmured, pulling her into his arms, hugging her close, kissing the side of her face. "I'm sorry."

"What's wrong? What happened?" she asked, stroking his cheek as he pulled back to look into his eyes.

"We brought them home," he said quietly. "I can't do that again. I can't." Carol searched his face, seeing the way his face seemed to melt from one of stress and fear to one of relief to be home with her.

"What happened out there, Daryl?" His head fell, and he buried his face against her shoulder. She stroked his back, and he clung to her, and she felt her heart beating so hard she knew he could feel it. "Daryl? What happened?" He took a few deep breaths before he pulled back, and he shook his head.

"Promise me you won't give up."

"What?"

"Promise me, if something happens to me, you won't give up. You won't…you'll keep living."

"Daryl? Where's this coming from?"

"If something happens to me, I want you to be ok."

"I…"

"Promise me. I need to know if I'm gone, you'll be ok."

"Daryl, you're ok! You're not going anywhere." She saw the fear in his eyes, and she saw the way his lip trembled. Whatever the hell had happened out there, it had become a part of him, and she was a little worried now.

"Don't want anything to happen to you."

"I'm right here," she promised. "Hey, I'm not going anywhere." She leaned in, kissing his forehead. "If anything happened to you? I…I can't think about that, Daryl. Not right now. Please." He nodded slowly, and Carol sighed, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm just glad you're home."


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Carol waited for Daryl to get out of the shower. She'd set out some fresh clothes for him on the bathroom sink and fixed him something quick for a meal. After he was clean and after he'd scarfed down the stew she'd made, he seemed finally willing to talk.

"Their leader? Rick. He got bit. His group took his arm, and they thought the infection was gonna get him. It got real bad. In the end, we thought he was goin'. He was beggin' us to put him down. Glenn wouldn't do it. Hershel wouldn't. They couldn't. They'd already lost..." Daryl shook his head. "And I was there, and he grabbed my arm, and he begged me to kill him or to give him the gun so he could do it himself. He didn't want to come back."

"Oh God," Carol murmured, placing her hand over her mouth. "Daryl, I'm sorry." He shook his head.

"He passed out. We thought he was gonna die. I had the gun to his head. I was gonna pull the trigger, and he came back. He opened his eyes, and I lost the nerve." He swallowed hard. "And his fever broke. It fuckin' broke, Carol. He didn't die. I almost killed him." Carol reached for his hand across the table. "And we brought him here. And it's a mess, 'cause Rick? He's Lori's husband. Carl and Judith's dad."

"Oh," Carol murmured. "_Oh_. How…they said he was dead."

"They _thought _he was dead. When the evacuations happened in Atlanta…I guess there were soldiers comin' in the hospitals, puttin' down walkers, puttin' down the dyin' patients so they wouldn't come back. Save the resources or some shit. I guess they assumed Rick was one of 'em. They figured he was dead."

"That poor man," Carol murmured, blinking back tears. "Oh God, it's not fair."

"They gave up on him. I get it. They had to keep goin'. And I thought…for a second I thought, if it was me?" He swallowed hard, gathering his thoughts. He couldn't get the words out. At first, he'd thought that if anybody gave up on him, he'd just die anyway. The idea of somebody else taking care of Carol seemed worse than his own death, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that whatever the hell happened to him, he didn't give a damn about himself. It was her. It was always her. She had to survive, or he'd die anyway.

"I don't understand," Carol murmured. "Daryl, talk to me."

"They were happy here, right? Lori and Shane. Weren't they? I mean, for what it's worth. They survived."

"They did…they were…are? But now? I can't imagine what they're going to go through. I can't imagine what it must have been like for her thinking she had lost her husband. The father of her children. I just…I lost my husband, but he wasn't…I didn't love him. I didn't want him there. Losing him freed me from myself. From the version of myself that I'd created to survive living with him. To survive _him_. But I've heard Carl speak of his father. He was a good man. He missed him, and…I think he's had trouble with his mother moving on." Her heart ached for that family. From what she knew of the constable, Shane, he was a good man, too, but Rick was Lori's husband, Judith and Carl's father. Carol was thankful that she knew Ed was gone and could never come back and come in between her and Daryl. Not that he ever could, even if he was alive, but the idea of it wasn't anything she wanted to even consider.

"All I want is for you and this baby to be ok. If something happens to me, I want you to move on." He said it quick, like ripping off a Band Aid.

"Daryl…"

"If I'm ever out there and I don't come back? Don't risk yourself lookin' for me."

"What?! Daryl, stop this."

"The only thing that matters to me is you and this baby. If somethin' happens to me, I gotta know you're gonna make it. I gotta know you won't do anything crazy. You won't look for me."

"Shut up," Carol remarked suddenly, the chair screeching along the tile floor as she got up. "You don't get to tell me that. If you ever get separated from the group, I'd be out there in a heartbeat. I don't care, Daryl. I don't. I would never leave you behind, because you wouldn't leave me behind."

"Just listen." He stood and moved around the table to put his hands on her arms. "This baby's gonna need you. You gotta stay alive for her." Carol looked down as he placed a hand against her belly.

"So do you," Carol sniffled. "She's gonna need her daddy." She sighed softly, as he pulled her into another embrace. "Ok, look. I can make you a promise, but you have to make me one."

"A'right," he murmured hesitantly, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

"If anything happens to you…" She flinched, the words hurting her more than she cared to admit. "If anything happens to you, I'll keep going. I'll fight. I can't promise I won't come look for you if you're out there, but I can promise that I won't give up. But if anything happens to me? You have to promise me the same thing. You have to promise that you'll be there for this baby, because she's going to need someone."

"Ain't nothin' gonna happen to you."

"Just promise me, Daryl," Carol said softly. "Promise me you'll be there for this baby if anything happens to me. We don't know what's gonna happen, and if something happens to me during delivery or…"

"Don't say that. Don't."

"Daryl, you have to promise. You'll take care of her."

"'Course I will. She's mine." Carol's lower lip trembled before she smiled, and she kissed him softly. "But ain't nothin' gonna happen to you."

"You can't know that."

"'Course I can," he murmured. "I ain't gonna let nothin' happen to you." Carol sighed softly, but she knew his promise was certain. She felt a little better, placing her hand over her belly, knowing that this baby was priority for both of them. Whatever happened, they would make sure she grew up loved and protected for as long as possible.

Carl startled awake and checked the alarm clock when she heard the pounding on the door downstairs. It was three in the morning, and the noise was enough to wake the dead, if the dead weren't already awake. She nudged Daryl's arm as the pounding continued, and he instinctively reached for his crossbow that rested against the nightstand. Carol grabbed a knife out from under the pillow, and together, they headed into the hall and down the stairs.

Daryl was the first down, moving to flip on the porch light as. He squinted out onto the porch to see a small figure huddled against the door.

"The hell…?" He unlocked the door, and the child toppled onto the floor. He was crying, his face streaked with tears. Carol saw him immediately and hurried to help him up.

"Sam?!"

"Ms. Carol," he sniffled. "My mom…" Carol and Daryl shared a glance before Daryl knelt down next to the boy.

"What happened, kid?"

"She won't wake up."

"Ok, Sam," Carol murmured soothingly, "where's your father?" Sam flinched.

"I don't know. He…he isn't home. Please, you gotta come! She's hurt!" Sam grabbed Carol's hand and started leading her toward the door. Daryl followed close behind, crossbow slung over his shoulder. They made it to Pete and Jessie's in no time at all, and the door was ajar, the warm light emanating from the windows giving the home a peaceful façade. But as soon as Sam rushed into the house, that façade shattered, and Carol gasped at the sight of blood dotting the floor. But where was Jessie? "She was right here, I swear!"

"Sam!" The voice tore through the hall from the back of the house, and Daryl made a beeline toward the kitchen, where the patio door was slid open, and Jessie was frantically pacing along the porch looking for her son. "Sam!"

"Hey! Jessie, Sam's fine." Jessie jumped and turned toward Daryl, holding her hand to her nose as a gush of blood spurted over her fingers. He hurried to her and helped her to sit down in a patio chair, as Carol flicked on the porch light.

"Oh God," Carol murmured. "Honey, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she sniffled, as Sam hid behind Carol, his curious eyes peeking out at his mom. "Oh, sweetie, are you ok?"

"I got scared," Sam sniffled, moving over to stand next to his mother.

"Mommy just fell down the stairs." She looked up at Carol who looked down at her skeptically but sympathetically. "I tripped. It was stupid." Carol worried her lip between her teeth before turning toward Sam.

"Daryl, why don't you take Sam inside?" Carol suggested, nodding toward the door. Daryl nodded, and he put his hand on the boy's shoulder. Sam glanced worriedly at his mother before turning to lead Daryl into the house. Carol sighed softly, rubbing her hands over her face gently before taking a deep breath.

"I'm so clumsy sometimes," Jessie muttered.

"Yeah. So was I," Carol remembered. "I don't know how many ER trips I took for a dislocated shoulder before I just looked up how to fix it myself online. It was cheaper, and I didn't have to deal with all of the skeptical looks."

"Like the ones you're giving me right now?" Jessie asked, wincing in pain.

"I always thought the excuses were stupid when I heard them come from other people. 'Oh, I ran into a wall. I tripped down the stairs.' But I thought I sounded convincing when I started saying it. I think I even blamed the neighbor's dog once. Oh God, I couldn't stand it when they looked at Ed like he was the piece of shit he really was. I knew. I _knew_ if I wasn't convincing enough, I was gonna get it worse when we got home." Jessie shook her head.

"Pete's not…"

"Oh of course he isn't, honey. I told myself Ed wasn't either, for a long time. I told myself that it was just how things were. How married people were. I just resigned myself to complete obedience of my husband. I stuck to my vows. I obeyed. I honored. You know, a couple of years after we got married, he suddenly decided to beat the hell out of me for wearing makeup. He thought I was being sinful, trying to attract attention. He held me down and hacked off my hair. God, I used to have long, curly hair, halfway down my back. That night, he pressed his knee into my back, and he cut my hair so short." She sniffled. "I never let it get longer than it is right now. Never again."

"I'm sorry," Jessie murmured.

"Me too," Carol replied quietly. "If walkers hadn't killed him, I don't know where I'd be now. I'm thankful to be where I am now. To have Daryl. He kept me going. After. I'm just thankful that we never had children. No child should be witness to that." Jessie flinched. "Children don't deserve to see that." Jessie nodded her head but said nothing. "Do you need anything?"

"Pete'll be home soon. He'll take care of me."

"Right. He'll come back about the time we leave, am I right?"

"You should stay out of this," Jessie warned, lowering her voice. "Please, you don't know what he could do."

"I know what he could do," Carol warned her. "I hope to God it doesn't happen." She shook her head. "Daryl and I can take Sam tonight if you…"

"No. Please. It'll just make it worse. It will. Just, please. Go. Please." Jessie was on the verge of tears again, and Carol nodded.

"Alright. But please think about what I said. Please understand that you don't have to live like this. There's enough bad in the word outside those walls. You shouldn't have to fear for your life inside them, too." Carol stood and left Jessie to her thoughts. Inside the house, Daryl's gaze caught Carol's as she walked into the house. She shook her head, answering the unspoken question.

"Is my mom ok?" Sam asked softly.

"She's just a little bruised up, Sam," Carol said quietly. "Why don't you go to her? Help her get upstairs to bed? Then tuck yourself in. Does your bedroom have a lock?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You lock your door when you go to bed, you hear me?"

"Yes ma'am," he said quietly. Carol gently placed her hand on the boy's shoulder before she turned toward Daryl.

"We should go. She doesn't want our help," she whispered gently. "We need to go." Daryl nodded, moving to let Carol pass.

"Ms. Carol?"

"Sam?"

"I didn't finish my assignment yet. I'll work on it in the morning, I promise." Carol smiled a little.

"It's ok, Sam. Do the best you can, ok?" He nodded, and he followed Daryl and Carol out into the front of the house, showing them out the door. He managed a sad little wave at the door before shutting it and leaving them alone on the front porch. "Oh God." She let out a gasping sigh before Daryl pulled her close in his arms.

"Hey, you did good," he murmured. "S'alright."

"Oh God, all I could think about was how much she reminds me of me. The excuses. She's just…she can't face it yet." She wiped at her tears and shook her head. "He's going to kill her, Daryl, and she might just let him." Daryl gave her a gentle squeeze.

"C'mon. Let's go home." She nodded, a frown creasing her brow as she linked her fingers with his. She no longer felt like that woman that married Ed Peletier and once planned a secret abortion just to keep him from abusing another life. She'd met Daryl, and all of that had changed, and thank God for him, because now she knew what it was like to be loved, to love in return without living in constant fear. She had Daryl, she had this baby, and she was stronger than she'd ever been before. But the more she thought on how her own life had changed, the more she worried for Jessie and wondered if the young woman would ever have the chance to get away for her own sake and the sake of her children.

As they walked up the steps to their home, Daryl squeezed Carol's hand and stopped her, turning to her, placing a soft kiss to her lips before stroking her belly. It was a silent promise that no matter what happened, she would never have to know the pain she'd known before, that Jessie knew now. She was loved. She was safe. And he would never hurt her that way.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Carol had kept an eye on Sam most of the next day. He'd been quiet but tried to keep an active interest in the things she said and in playing with the other kids during a break in lessons. When it came time for the kids to read their essays, Sam had anxiously stood in front of the class and read a story about how Alexandria meant safety from monsters and how one day he hoped to be a builder to add to the community and make it bigger and even safer for everyone. She knew he'd put it together quickly, and she could see how tired he was from the way his eyelids fluttered shut from time to time. It made her thankful that her own child would never have to know the anxiety of growing up in an abusive home like Sam had to. Like Daryl had to.

After the children were dismissed for the day, Carol began her walk home, only to find Sam waiting for her at the end of the block.

"Sam?" she asked, placing her hand over the swell of her belly as she walked toward him.

"Ms. Carol?"

"What is it, Sam?"

"I didn't read my real essay. I mean, that was my essay, but it's not the one I really wanted to write."

"Oh," Carol said softly. "You want to talk about it?" He shook his head hesitantly, before he made a move to step toward her.

"The monsters outside the gates are real," he said quietly. "They aren't like the monsters from the movies or you think might be under your bed. They're really real, and they can hurt you."

"Yes, they can," Carol said quietly, not exactly sure where the boy was going with this.

"But not all monsters are out there. Sometimes you hide from things because…because the monster's not supposed to be a monster at all." Carol gently placed her hand on Sam's shoulder.

"I know," she said softly. "Sometimes the people that are supposed to protect you from the monsters turn out to be monsters, too." Sam nodded, his eyes widening as he looked up at her. "Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Would it make you feel better if I talked to Michonne?"

"No, please don't! He'll find out."

"No, he won't. Sam, I promise you, staying quiet isn't the best thing. Trust me. I know what it's like to feel like nothing can ever be good again. I know. But you have to believe it _can_ be better. Can you trust me?" He thought for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Go home. Check on your mother. He's not going to hurt you, do you understand me? We're going to figure this out."

"Promise?"

"I promise," she murmured, a tugging in her chest bringing tears to her eyes. "Go on, Sam. It's going to be ok." She saw a sense of relief wash over the worry in his eyes, and she turned to head toward Michonne's house, hoping to get through to someone and protect that family before somebody else got hurt like Jessie. Or worse.

Daryl wasn't going to cross the street, but when he saw Rick Grimes sitting in a chair on the front porch of Lori and Shane's house, he thought the least he could do was stop and check on the man who he helped save.

"Daryl," Rick said tiredly, stroking the back of his baby daughter that slept peacefully against his chest. The stump of his amputated arm looked to be freshly bandaged. Someone was taking good care of him.

"How're things, Rick?"

"It's an adjustment," he said quietly, kissing the top of Judith's head. "Lori's confused as hell. Can't blame her. Shane's just…don't know if he hates me for bein' alive, for coming back for my family. Don't know if he just wishes he could take it all back. I feel like I don't belong."

"You do. That's your family."

"Part of me wonders if maybe I should've died. You know? Would've made it easier. Shit, what the hell do I do now? I've got one arm. Can't shoot for shit anymore. Lori watches me with this…this look. I'm not the man she fell in love with. She goes through the motions. She flinched. My arm? She flinched when she saw it, like she was afraid of me. Of it. Of this. I don't know. It's not…"

Daryl moved to sit down on the porch and listen to Rick. If anything, it sounded like Rick needed a sounding board, someone he could confide in about how shitty everything was, and who better to confide in than the man who didn't pull the trigger?

"Just gotta give her time, is all," Daryl said with a shrug. "She thought you were dead."

"Yeah. She did. Can't blame her, 'cause I almost did die. I thought, when I woke up, that I was damned lucky for not dying, but now? Now I think it'd have been better if I had." He shook his head. "We won't work out."

"You don't know that."

"She loves him. Wasn't their fault. They didn't mean it to happen. Just happened. I'm gonna lose her. Eventually, I'm gonna lose them." He held Judith a little tighter in his arm. "It's the way the world is now. You hold onto what you got 'til you can't hold on anymore. Things work out the way they do, and we can't change it." Daryl swallowed hard, wondering what kind of point Rick was trying to make. Was he giving up on himself? On his family? What kind of man could just step aside and let another man take his place? What kind of man could give up and lose the kind of strength it takes to be the man that doesn't bow out.

Eventually, Rick seemed all talked out, and he headed inside to put Judith down for a nap. Daryl sat on the porch a few minutes longer, and when Carol went walking by across the street, he immediately got up and made his way to her.

"Hey," she said with a little smile.

"You're it."

"What? Are we playing tag or…"

"No," he snorted. "You're it. You're it for me. I just want you to know. I wouldn't give up on you. I would never." Carol was a little taken aback, but she didn't pull away when he pulled his arms around her.

"I know that," she said with a sweet smile.

"We don't know what's gonna happen."

"We don't."

"But I wanted you to know, there ain't anybody else I want in this whole world. You're it for me." Carol reached up and stroked his cheek.

"And you're it for me." She gave him a soft kiss before pulling back. "I spoke to Michonne."

"'Bout what?"

"About Pete," she said quietly. "She's going to hold a forum tonight. If Jessie stands up to him and confirms he's been hurting her, they may banish him."

"You think she will?"

"I don't know. I hope so. She's scared."

"Can't you talk to her?"

"There's only so much talking I can do. She's got to want to make this better. She's got to stop looking at him as something to fear. She has to feel strong, to feel bigger than him. I can't do that. She has to see that. She has to feel that for herself." Daryl gently stroked Carol's back, rubbing small circles above her hip. She sighed softly, leaning into him. "It isn't even my business. But I feel like I have to help."

"I know," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I get it."

"There's a forum tonight," Carol said quietly. "Michonne asked me to speak, but she's already heard my side. It's not exactly something I want to share with everybody." She looked down.

"Hey," he murmured, tilting her chin, lifting her gaze to meet his. "I'm proud of ya."

"I haven't done anything."

"You talked to Jessie. Even if things ain't changed yet, you planted a seed. Ya got her thinkin' 'bout things, maybe in ways she ain't thought of 'em before. I wish somebody'd talked to my mama the way you talked to Jessie." Carol smiled sadly, lifting her hand to his cheek.

"I just hope they do something about Pete. It's pretty sad that even in this world, with all the bad there is outside of those gates that we have to think about jails and punishments inside these walls. This is supposed to be a sanctuary. A safe haven. Now we're having forums to talk about, what? Exiling people?"

"You ask me, we should throw him over the wall. Let the walkers dole out the punishment."

"Daryl?"

"Ain't no room in this world for people like him. Don't want him around. Not when I got you. When we got this baby." He placed his hand on her stomach. "This is the only world she'll ever know, y'know? Don't want her to have to grow up fearin' people like him." Carol linked her fingers through his.

"Wow," she murmured, her eyes welling with tears, a little smile tugging at her mouth.

"What?"

"She's not even here yet, and you're already a father." Daryl chuckled softly before squeezing Carol's hand and leading her off toward home.

Carol didn't go to the forum that night. She didn't have it in her to sit there and listen to the back and forth debate about Pete. Many would defend him, saying he was a doctor and they needed him, but Pete was a danger to his family. Daryl had gone along to sit and listen, and she was sitting on the front porch with Sam. Jessie hadn't been too thrilled with all of the attention being brought upon her marriage, but she trusted Carol with Sam, and she'd gone along with her oldest boy Ron to speak her piece while Pete was also given his chance to speak.

There was no room in their world for an abusive husband, and if the community was going to vote to keep him around, Carol knew she was going to have to seriously rethink their stay in Alexandria. The problem was, Alexandria needed a doctor. They had Jacqui and there was even Hershel, but an obstetrics nurse and a veterinarian weren't going to know everything for every case that came about.

Carol and Sam sat in silence, peeling apples from the orchard to bake a pie with later. A tiny cry broke through the crisp night air, and Carol looked up to see Glenn Rhee walking down the sidewalk with his wailing newborn in his arms.

"Glenn, right?"

"Yeah," he said tiredly. "You're Daryl's wife? Carol?"

"Not exactly his wife, but yes, I'm Carol," she said with a little smile. "I figured you'd be at the forum."

"I planned on it, but Josh had other plans."

"Josh."

"Joshua," Glenn said with a little nod. "It was Maggie's top pick for a boy. She was sure he'd be a boy."

"Daryl's sure this one's a girl," Carol said with a little smile, placing her hand on her stomach. "She'll be Sophia, if he's right." The baby fussed louder.

"I don't know what to do," Glenn admitted. "He's not hungry. He's dry. He's warm and swaddled. He just…he won't stop crying." Carol frowned and put her bowl of apples to the side.

"Let me try," she said, holding her hands out. Glenn watched her for a moment before deciding there'd be no harm. He gently eased the baby into Carol's waiting arms, and she smiled down at him, watching the way his fingers poked out from the swaddling, flexing as if he was reaching for something unattainable.

"Hello, Joshua," Carol murmured softly, a silly grin spreading over her face. "My you're a handsome little man, aren't you?" Glenn sighed softly and sat down on the porch step next to Sam.

"Don't worry," Sam said to him. "My mom said I cried a lot too. I think I turned out ok."

"He doesn't sleep more than a couple hours a night," Glenn pointed out. "I'm exhausted. He's exhausted. Hershel's got all kinds of home remedies that haven't worked yet."

"He's brand new," Carol murmured, grinning down at the baby, gently rubbing his back through the swaddling. His cries eased a little bit, and now they came more like whimpers, his face relaxing a little, the redness fading. "He just hasn't gotten used to this world yet. He needs to feel like he's safe." She pulled him close to her chest, kissing his warm forehead. He snuggled up against her, his little fingers curling against her shirt. Glenn watched in amazement as Carol handled the baby with such grace. The little one was finally reduced to short grunts as he settled in for sleep. Then he was silent. Carol rocked him back and forth, and the only sound filling the air was that of the crickets winding down the night with their serenade.

"You've done this before?" Glenn asked, in awe as Carol passed his sleeping son back into his arms.

"No," she said with a grin. "I just remember reading somewhere that sometimes babies can sense if you're anxious. They get anxious, too. Just try to relax. I know it can't be easy, raising him alone. But he's got you, and you've got him, and you'll both figure it out along the way." Glenn smiled a little, looking down at his son, amazed at the difference just a few moments in Carol's soothing embrace did for the little guy.

"I'll try to remember that. But if it doesn't work, I'll be knocking at your door four times a night. I think you might be the baby whisperer." Carol rolled her eyes at that, shaking her head.

"Please. You'll be the one giving me this same advice a few months from now when Daryl and I are at our wits end with 2 AM feedings." Glenn smiled a little.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

"Hey," she said with a little smile, "anytime."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Merle Dixon pushed off from the porch he'd been leaning against and made his way across to the forum. He'd been watching. Waiting. He'd listened to all these assholes beg for mercy for Pete, because he was a doctor. A surgeon. Big fucking deal. They acted like he was God's gift, because his mommy and daddy paid big money to send him to medical school. Any other world, any other parents, Merle figured, that could have been him.

Daryl noticed Merle coming into the group, sticking to the back at first before moving into Daryl's row of chairs. Then he was sitting right next to him. Daryl glanced at him, and Merle said nothing. Didn't even look at him.

"It's not how it looks," Pete spoke, unable to look at his wife or his oldest son. "I lost my temper last night. I admit that. But it's not something that happens all the time. I get angry. I took it out on her."

_"Daddy, stop! Stop it!" Daryl cried, flinging his tiny self at his father as his mother lay crying on the floor. "Leave her alone!" _

_"Get off me, you little shit!" He pushed back on Daryl, sending him into the wall._

"She's my wife. Mother of my kids. I love her, and I'm so sorry I hurt her." He looked up at Jessie, who stared at him, her eyes full of tears, but not tears of forgiveness. She was holding her eldest son's hand. The teen's head was bowed, and he was shaking.

"You're a liar." Jessie's voice was low. Even.

_"Get up! Daryl, get up!" Merle was just thirteen, but Daryl was a stock four-year-old, and it was all he could do to pull his brother up from the floor. Their mama was screaming now, as their daddy got up and started advancing toward them. _

_"Leave him alone! Leave my baby alone!" she sobbed as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. He'd knocked out another molar. _

_"You shut the hell up, bitch!" their daddy seethed, turning to smack her again. She cowered, whimpering against the back of the sofa. Daryl cried, rubbing his eyes as he stared up at his father looming over him like a tree. "You're gonna learn to mind your daddy. You ever jump on me like that again, I'll knock you fuckin' head off, you hear me?!"_

She didn't have to say anymore. The bruises all but showed the evidence of the past few weeks of abuse. She'd worn a short sleeve shirt on purpose. Bruises littered her skin, and some of the women couldn't even look at her. Some of the men held their wives a little closer.

"Honey, you know I love you. You and the kids. I'll do better. I swear it."

"Only way you're gonna do better for 'em is by leavin'. Or dyin'." All heads turned toward the last person they expected to hear speak. Merle Dixon.

_"Daddy, no!" Daryl cried out, as he made a swipe for him. Before he could touch him, Merle lunged at his father, knocking him in the gut, sending him stumbling back a few steps. He gasped for breath, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water as Merle helped Daryl to his feet. For a brief moment, Daryl saw the devil in his daddy's eyes as he glowered at Merle. And then he was being led by his hand through the house and out the back door. _

_"S'alright, little brother," Merle promised, kneeling down in front of Daryl, wiping his face with a handkerchief. "You gotta stop that cryin', 'cause it's just gonna make Daddy madder than a hornet. "You stop that, now. Don't you cry. Where you hurt?" Daryl pointed to his elbow, and Merle lifted his brother's arm. "Ain't too bad. Just a scrape. C'mon. Let's take you to Mrs. Miller next door. She's got the best cookies 'round. She'll get you patched up. We'll stay 'til Daddy passes out."_

_"What about…Mama?" Daryl sniffled, swallowing hard and blinking through his tears. Merle looked down._

_"She'll be alright in the mornin'. She always is, 'member?" Daryl sniffled again. "Hey now. What'd I say 'bout cryin'?" Daryl nodded and blinked back the last of his tears. "C'mon, kid." He took his baby brother's hand and led him across the yard to Mrs. Miller's front porch. A safe haven from this shit storm of a night._

"You have something else to say, Merle?" Michonne asked, a curiosity peaking in her voice.

"Yeah. I do. This sumbitch goes to work, holds a job, helps people. But he can't deal with all the shit out of his control, so he loses a patient, has to put 'em down. The whole group looks to him for answers. He gets angry. He goes home, does the only thing he can do. Don't have a dog, so he takes it out on his wife. Next, that won't be enough. He'll take it out on his kids. He'll make 'em think they ain't worth shit, and they'll grow up thinkin' it. They'll have each other for a while, but even then, it ain't enough. Life goes on, ain't that what they say?" Daryl smirked. "Then one day them kids'll wish they'd put a bullet between his eyes when they had a chance, 'cause if they had, maybe their lives wouldn't have added up to one big pile of shit after another. Maybe they woulda made somethin' of themselves if they didn't have that voice in their head all the time tellin' 'em they'd never be nothin'. They'd never have nothin'. 'Cause they're nothin'." His gaze turned on Pete. "Fuck you and your excuses. You ain't a man. You're just a coward tryin' to call the shots. Tryin' to be a man. You know what you are to your kids? You're one'a them." He pointed toward the gates. "You're a fuckin' monster, and monsters ain't got no place in this world." He turned and walked away, leaving the forum in a stunned silence.

Daryl sat there for a moment, eyes on Pete who looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Finally, he stood, turned and walked away.

Merle was halfway home when Daryl caught up to him.

"Hey," Daryl murmured, chewing his lower lip when Merle stopped and turned to face his brother. The dim light from a nearby porch showed the anxiety in Daryl's face, and Merle cleared his throat.

"A'right, don't make a big scene," Merle muttered.

"Just wanted to say thanks," Daryl said quietly. "You know. What you did back there for Jessie."

"Ain't do for her."

"I know. Just…thanks, though." Merle gave him a little nod.

"See you 'round, little brother." And then he walked away. Daryl turned slowly and headed back toward home.

She was in bed by the time he got home, curled up under the sheets with a book propped against her growing belly. Her gaze drifted toward him when he walked into the bedroom. She gave him an anxious little smile.

"How'd it go?"

"Didn't stick around for the verdict," he murmured, kicking his boots off and stripping down to nothing before moving toward the bed. She pulled back the sheets, and he climbed in, taking her book from her and putting it on the nightstand. She curled up against him, pulling the sheets over them both, and she sighed softly.

"It'll be alright, won't it?" she asked softly.

"'Course it will," he murmured. "Whatever they decide, we'll go from there." He put his hand over her stomach, caressing her softly there. They lay there quietly together, before Daryl jumped a little. A smile spread over Carol's lips, and they looked at each other. "Was that?"

"You felt that?"

"Was that you?"

"No," she giggled. "That's Sophia. She's saying 'hello.'"

"Wow," he murmured, moving his hand just slightly, hoping he'd feel that little bump again. They waited, and Carol grinned when she realized he was holding his breath.

"She's not too active yet. I wouldn't hold your breath," she pointed out.

"Nah, she'll move. C'mon, Soph. You gonna prove your mama wrong?" And there it was again. "Ha, see?!"

"Oh God," Carol giggled. "You're both ganging up on me. Not right, Sophia Dixon. Not right at all." She put her hand on her belly, and that was when she realized that Daryl was staring at her. "What?"

"You called her Sophia Dixon." Carol blinked a couple of times, realizing the power of what she'd said.

"Oh, I guess I did," she said quietly. "But that's who she is, right?" She watched the pride flicker over his face, and she got her answer when he eased her back against the mattress and kissed her softly.

"Yep. That's exactly who she is."

Several months later

Carol's eyes fluttered open, and she shivered, pulling the covers up to her shoulders. She yawned, blinking into the dim light of the bedroom and turning to see that Daryl's side of the bed was empty. She furrowed her brows and turned to check the clock. Three in the morning. Ah. She smiled a little and reached for the baby monitor, one of the best things the supply run crew had brought back recently. It was turned off.

She flicked the switch on and heard the soft coos of their baby daughter and Daryl's soft voice whispering to her, and she placed her hand over her heart.

Slipping out of bed, Carol pulled on her robe and padded down the hall to the room that Daryl had painted all by himself in pink and purple. Just standing in that room could make a person forget the grim world that waited outside the gates of Alexandria.

She peeked through the crack in the door as a soft, yellow light glowed in the corner by the crib. Daryl was sitting in the rocker with Sophia in his arms, and his eyes were fixed on her. Carol bit her lip as the tears welled in her eyes, and she sighed softly.

Daryl had been completely enamored with their daughter. The moment she was born, he was all about her, helping out with feedings and changings and bathings. He wanted to be there. He wanted to be there for it all, and Carol had never been so happy. He was her partner in every sense of the word.

"What do you think? Hmm, Princess Soph? You gonna go to sleep for Daddy? He's got a long day sittin' on that wall tomorrow." Sophia blinked up at him, a little grin pulling at her mouth. "That a smile? You gonna smile for me? C'mon. You gotta. That way I can tell yer mama I got the first smile." Sophia's face scrunched, and she promptly sneezed right in Daryl's face. Without missing a beat, he wiped her little nose. "Bless you."

Carol stifled a giggle as she watched Daryl make funny faces at Sophia to calm her. Sophia hated sneezing. She could be the happiest, most content baby ever, but one little sneeze, one little hiccup, one little gas bubble, and she was not a happy camper.

When Sophia had settled, forgetting about the horrors of that sneeze, Daryl pressed his lips against her forehead, and Carol finally made her presence known.

"The monitor was off," she said softly. He looked up quickly.

"Yeah, she was kinda loud. Didn't wanna wake ya."

"You could have woken me," Carol said with a little smile. "I don't mind." She moved in and knelt down next to the rocker. "I don't mind one bit. How's my girl?"

"She's perfect like her mama," Daryl pointed out.

"Oh, stop," Carol snorted.

"Don't say what I don't mean," he shrugged. "That right, Soph?" Sophia yawned, and Carol laughed. She stood and reached down to take Sophia from her daddy.

"C'mere, sweetheart." She kissed Sophia's nose and carried her over to the crib. "You go to sleep now. Mama and Daddy are really tired, ok?" Sophia looked up at her mother and kicked her little legs. "Now, now, you settle down." Sophia grunted, and Carol pulled the blanket up to her baby's belly. "That's my girl. You sleep now." Carol glanced at Daryl. "I'm starting to think Merle gives her sugar water when he feeds her." Daryl chuckled at that.

"Wouldn't be surprised. She's got him wrapped 'round her little finger. I caught him singin' to her last week. Ain't never gonna let him live that down."

"What was he singing?" Carol asked, moving to turn the nursery light off. "Please, God, let it be _Mary Had a Little Lamb." _Carol winced.

"Nah, I think it was _Pour Some Sugar on Me_."

"Oh God," Carol groaned. "He's going to warp our precious baby girl." She looked toward the ceiling and shook her head.

"C'mon now, every kid should have that one uncle they can remember when they're older and say 'damn, my uncle was awesome.' I'm glad Soph has that."

"Me too, I think," Carol said with a little grin. Daryl took her hand and led her from the room, taking her back to their own bedroom. "Oh! Lori got the news today! She's about six weeks."

"Jesus, Judith ain't even walkin' yet."

"Well, I guess they're having their second honeymoon," Carol said with a grin. "C'mon, it's a good thing. She's terrified, but Jacqui and Hershel are confident they can get her through it. And with the new group coming in with Aaron next week, he's hopeful for another doctor." Since Pete's exile out of Alexandria, Hershel and Jacqui had taken over the medical duties. Thankfully, there had been no serious illnesses or injuries, but they had gotten Carol through her pretty dramatic delivery of Sophia, and she had assured Lori that everything would be ok. She just hoped she was right and that they would have an actual physician soon.

"Speakin' of, you wanna have another one?" Daryl asked, raising his eyebrow. Carol snorted.

"I just had one. No way am I putting myself through that again anytime soon."

"Just sayin', we can if ya want. I'm all for it."

"Really?" she asked.

"'Course. Would be nice for Soph to have a brother."

"Oh, the next one's a boy, huh?"

"Yep."

"I suppose you have his name all picked out, too?"

"Nah. You're good at the name thing. I'll just spoil 'im."

"Oh you're impossible."

"C'mere. I'll show ya how impossible I can be." He pressed her down against the mattress, covering her neck with kisses as she bit back squeals of laughter. "So, whaddya say? Someday?" Her laughter faded, but her smile remained, and she reached up to stroke his face.

"Someday," she said with a nod. "Here? This place? We can have everything we never thought we could." Daryl traced his thumb along her lips and nodded. She spoke the truth. But the thing was, he had everything he ever wanted. He had Carol. He had his little girl. He had a life that his daddy had told him he'd never have. He was happy, and damn it, he was going to enjoy every minute he had with them, because in this place, he could.

The End

_Author's Note: I want to thank each and every one of you who has read and left feedback for me. You guys are awesome! Thank you so much for your support and encouragement!_


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